Thanks For the Quickie
by Maeggy
Summary: Starts off with how the bathroom scene should have gone.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own no one, 'nuff said.**

She'd been in the bathroom for while now. _Hurry up, hurry up! _she yelled to herself, willing her shaking hand to write faster upon the mirror. She knew it wouldn't be too long until Jackson got suspicious and came knocking. The little girl outside be damned, that wouldn't stop him, she knew.

After finishing the last B, Lisa admired her handiwork and was surprised to notice that the letters were legible, her shaking hand notwithstanding. She quickly turned on the tap and proceeded to scrub her hands clean as fast as she could, which in her opinion wasn't nearly fast enough. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself before she opened the door, not wanting to go back out there and face the hell that was Jackson Rippner.

Once the flight attendants saw her message she'd be safe. But her father… Shuddering, she forced the thought to the back of her mind figuring that once she got Jackson taken care of she could call her dad and tell him to sneak out of the back of the house or something.

Forcing her hand to be still, she reached out and opened the bathroom door, nearly shrieking when she saw Jackson's clear blue eyes staring at her.

"I was beginning to…" his words trailed off as his eyes glanced to the right, her message in plain view. A look of complete and utter rage filled his face and he forced her back into the tiny bathroom, blindly reaching behind him to close the door. He seemed to fumble with the lock before it clicked into place, and then the focus was all on her.

Her heart beat out a tattoo of fear; she was convinced it was going to break out of her chest. Her head knocked savagely into the wall as he slammed her backwards, successfully knocking the breath out of her. Jackson leaned forward, after she slumped to the ground, grabbed her by the white V of her collar and whipped her around, this time slamming her against the sink, the small of her back screaming in pain. His hands went up around her neck and started squeezing.

"Can't…breathe," she managed to get out, not paying attention to anything he was growling at her, her only thoughts were on somehow getting him to relinquish his grip on her delicate flesh.

Hands still around her neck, though significantly looser he, swung her around yet again, this time the bathroom door was her target. She hit it with enough force to shake it, she fervently wished someone would come to her rescue, but in her fogged up brain she was well aware of what the flight attendants (and everyone within a short distance) thought was going on here, and there would be no one rushing to help her.

"You love your dad, don't you?" he ground out through clenched teeth.

Lisa screwed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from falling, but nodded all the same.

Jackson moved his hand from his hold around her neck to her jaw, gripping it gently, but tightened until she opened her eyes again. He wanted to make sure that she was looking him in the eye before he spoke again, enunciating every word, "Then stop gambling with his life."

His blue blue eyes bore into her own hazel ones. She nodded imperceptivity, but he felt it. They reached a silent agreement, and then his lips were on her own. She didn't even see it coming, one minute he was staring at her anger still leaping off of him, and the next he was kissing her, but it was over just as suddenly as it started. Lisa followed Jackson's line of vision and saw, more than felt, him brush aside her collar to reveal the scar on her chest. Her dirty little secret, as she called it.

She flinched as he gently fingered the raised white flesh, its imaged burned into his mind. How dare someone do this to her? How dare they carve upon her perfect skin? Her body was to be praised, not degraded in such a way. And in that moment he knew, he knew what happened. Why she hadn't been on a date, much less alone with a man for a prolonged amount of time in all the weeks that he had watched her. He knew why she was so skittish towards the male gender. Hate flowed through him, but it wasn't towards Lisa and her foolish plan, it was for the man that had so carelessly done this to her. Well, there was nothing to be done for it now. Unless…

Jackson leaned forward again, hands gently cradling her face. Instead of the fast and furious kiss that he gave her before, he made sure that he started out slowly and gently. He grazed his lips against her own, gauging her reaction, and when she didn't pull back (not that she had a choice with the door behind her head) he continued with kissing the corners of her mouth, his stubble tickling her face. He then pulled her lower lip into his mouth suckling on it before he went in for the kill. The kiss was deep and soulful, though not as fierce as it was before, but it wasn't lacking in passion. This woman did something to him that no other had, stirred things that he thought were long since dead. When she took a startled breath he used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, which she thankfully didn't bite.

She was at a loss as to why he was kissing her, he was a master of switching emotions at the drop of a hat; from flirty charming strange to cold merciless manipulator, from ready to kill her to kissing her like she'd never been kissed before. He was an enigma, then again he probably had to be in his line of work. She admitted to herself that she would much rather him be kissing than trying to kill her.

Disengaging his tongue from hers, he trailed a line of kisses from her jaw to her collarbone, her breathless gasping music to his ears. He smiled against her neck at being able to arouse all these different emotions with her. Arouse being the key word. He was sure she wasn't aware of it, but he felt her thrusting her chest into his own. Trailing his right hand down her side, he moved from her shoulder, over the outside of her breast, down her stomach, then thighs, and finally stopping at the hem of her skirt.

Lisa stiffened as she felt him raise her skirt higher, hand under it and right up against the skin of her thigh. The thought fleetingly crossed her mind that she should have worn nylons. After a pause, a litany of other thoughts came to the forefront, and right in the middle was the one where she was berating herself for what she was letting him to do her. This was the same man who wanted her to help make Keefe an easier target, the same man who had no qualms about killing her dad to get what he wanted, who manipulated her without second thoughts. Which is what he was doing right now, but she was entirely too afraid to do something. It was that day all over again, except this time he didn't have a knife, just the power of threats.

Deciding against his next course of action, he pulled away from her and took in her appearance, from her disheveled hair and swollen lips, to the hand print he could see forming around her neck.

"The phones are working," he whispered against her mouth as he kissed her lightly and working the lock on the door at the same time. She pulled her skirt back into place before she was all but pushed back to her seat, Jackson at her back.

After winking at the nosey flight attendant, who was thoroughly getting on his nerves, he resumed his aisle seat, and looked forward all the while ignoring the looks of disgust Lisa was throwing his way.

All the while he tried to ignore the bulge in his pants.

* * *

**Okay, let me have it. I hope it wasn't horrible, and I hope I didn't make Jackson too OOC, but either way let me know please. Review, I even don't care what you say in it. What it good? Bad? Horrible beyond belief? Should I expand on it? How's the weather? What's your pets name? See, I don't care. But I do love getting those wonderful Review Alert emails. They make my day. :o) Hope to hear from you.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It'd been twenty minutes since the events in the airplane lavatory and ten since she had made the call and found out that not only was it Keefe that was going to be taken out, but his entire family as well. "A big brash message," was what Jackson had told her, and Lisa knew that it was in regards to the things that Keefe had been saying on television. Someone saw him as a threat, not necessarily Jackson himself, but certainly the people that he was working for, and they wanted to silence that threat while warning others in the process.

_Oh god, what have I done?_ She couldn't stop those thoughts. Thinking of herself as a horrible person, she couldn't believe what she was being a party to. She needed to stop it somehow. If she had to sacrifice herself in the process, well then she'd cross that bridge when she got there.

Reaching down to scratch and itch on her thigh she felt the outline of the pen she had stolen from that sleeping teen. In fact, she could still hear him searching for it, blaming his friend for stealing it. She could almost laugh at that, for it was certainly not his friend that had taken object. Lisa felt along the writing utensil until she came to the capped end. Fingering it, she came to a plan, it was risky she knew, but she also wasn't sure she had the stomach to pull off such a bold move. But, desperate times call for desperate measures and all that. Or, in this case, justifiable homicide. Now the only thing she had to come up with was how to go about it, how to get him to lower his guards for a minute or two.

Then, glancing down at her chest she thought of it. Oh how she didn't want to have to dredge up old memories and pain for it, but she had no choice. The look in his eyes when he saw, there was something there other than the cold indifference of before. Something that seemed to prompt his following actions. She reached up with her left hand, making sure that the pen was still firmly in her right, and felt her still tingling lips. Looking at him out of the corner of her eye she noticed that he was watching her, a smirk, presumably, upon his lips. Those gorgeous lips. Those lips that caused all sorts of tingling not only on her lips but in places that she thought that were no longer capable of feeling, well…tingly. Not after _that_.

Besides, she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she liked his kiss. She kept kicking herself for it. She had no right to feel that way, not with what he was forcing upon her. But, he hadn't forced himself on her. Oh no, she volunteered all on her own, getting caught up in the moment is what she told herself.

She took a deep breath and bent forwards, left hand on her forehead in exaggerated pain. It wasn't hard to pretend to feel off after first being head butted and then being thrown around a bathroom stall the size of a closet. For effect she let out a pained moan, knowing that would get his attention. Lisa heard him turn in his seat, clothing rubbing against the cushion. "What is it this time?"

She glared at his knee, "You bashed my head into the bathroom wall, remember?" Waiting on baited breath for his response, she hoped it would be something reminiscent of concern.

"Suck it up," was his curt response.

Staying in her bent position she kept rubbing her hand over her forehead trying in vain to get some kind of response that would work to her advantage.

"Sit up." And she did, her head turned to look out the window, watching the approaching descent. She could see the tarmac below her, she knew she had to get the ball rolling. If she hesitated any longer she would lose all opportunity.

"It happened in a parking lot," she started off quietly, though she knew he heard. He heard everything. After waiting a few more seconds she continued, "in the middle of the day." If he had questions about where this was going he knew now. _You can do this, you have to do this_, she told herself. "He held a knife to my neck the whole time." She chanced a glance towards her capture. She had him, she knew it. There _was_ something else in his blue eyes, something that didn't resemble ice bergs. He was concerned, but it wasn't about her head. It was directly related to what she was saying. _Why does he care? He's no different, not really. He's just not demanding sex_. And in the back of her mind she knew, she just _knew_, that he wouldn't do that to her. She almost regretted what she had to do next. "And after, I kept telling myself the same thing, over and over again."

A few seconds of silence stretched between them as Jackson looked her in the eyes, she silently prayed that none of her thoughts were showing, knowing that she was more or less an open book. "That it was beyond your control," Jackson interceded, trying to figure out her thoughts.

The ding of the seat belt sign and she slowly and as quietly as possible slipped her from around her waist.

It was time.

"No." He looked puzzled, but quickly put back the mask of indifference. "That it wouldn't happen again."

She struck. Using every ounce of strength she had, she wheeled her right hand around, point of the pen towards Jackson, and slammed it as hard as she could in to his neck.

Taking a second to glance towards his face, careful not to look down at the pen, she saw the look of complete shock and surprise on his face, and something akin to puzzlement. Almost seeming to ask how she could do that to him. Slowly he came back to himself and rage like she had never seen before filled his face, and she was off; jumping over him in a desperate attempt to get out and into the aisle.

She heard him get up behind her, and suddenly she was on the floor. Looking back towards him she saw that he was sprawled on the floor as well, hand over the pen. She kicked his hand off and got up, running towards the front of the plane. Pushing people of out the way as she went, muttering hurried apologizes as she passed. She was suddenly at the front of the plane, a flight attendant in front of her.

"You can't go yet," she was saying, but Lisa wasn't paying attention she was too busy glancing back into the cabin trying to see Jackson.

"T-there's a man back there. He n-needs help," she stuttered and kicked herself for it. Where'd that pen wielding bravery go?

But it didn't take long for the flight attendant to rush towards the back of the plane and the second she did the doors were opened and she was running into the corridor towards the interior of the airport. Behind her she heard someone yell, "Don't let her get away, she stabbed a man back there."

The thoughts going through her head all involved her getting out of that airport and to her father. She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, Jackson's, and tried to call home, only to realize that she had no signal.

"Damnit!" she hissed.

Knowing she was running out of time, and luck, for certainly the small army of security guards would stop her well before she got out. Then again she'd much rather be in there hands than Jackson's, though the thought of Jackson's hands, and lips, had her shuddering. He'd be a skilled lover, she knew. _What the hell is wrong with you? Skilled lover? Have you gone insane?_ She berated herself as she shucked her outer sweater and tossing it into a nearby garbage.

After ten minutes of trying to avoid various security officials, easy to spot in their yellow jackets, and Jackson (_How'd he get out of there so fast? He had a damned pen in his neck_.) She finally made it out of the airport and into a stolen SUV, on her way to warning her father and the Keefe's.

He was in the house and had knocked her father out, and aside from being unconscious her dad seemed to be okay otherwise.

"I didn't want to kill him yet," the voice came from behind her, but it wasn't Jackson's normally smooth voice. The voice that issued out of his mouth was garbled and raspy, and it seemed he needed to press on his throat to be able to speak at all. Slowly she got to her feet, "I want him to be around long enough for you to see me kill him."

Standing tall she looked him square in the eye, burrowing her fear deep. She knew that if she wanted to get out of this with not only her life, but her father's as well, she could not let him know that he scared the absolute shit out of her. Murder was in his eyes, all previous thoughts and passions were gone. In place was the face of death. Was this what his victims saw before he cut their lives short?

Shaking her head of her morose thoughts she focused in on Jackson, looking for any sign of vulnerability aside from the scarf covered puncture wound, but all she saw was cold, merciless kill.

She was in deep shit and she knew it. She bolted out of the room, knowing that he would follow, but needing to be on the move. It felt too much like being a target, standing still like that. Besides, she knew her house, Jackson didn't.

What followed was the most hair raising time of Lisa's life, even more so than the plane ride. It seemed that no one could get ahead for much of a time. First, Jackson had a knife, something that worked keenly to his advantage. But then Lisa had used one her pumps for a weapon, slamming into his thigh. And now, now Jackson had her at the top of the stairs, backed against the wall and hand, once again, around her neck, his favorite resting place. This time she knew he was going to kill her; she'd pissed him off too much for him not to.

He leaned closer, wheezing into her face. "What Leese, no more tricks?" He bared his teeth as he spoke, forcing the words out.

Swallowing convulsively she scanned the area, looking for something, anything that would be of help to her.

"Tsk, tsk. Seems you've been backed into a corner. Literally," he let out some sort of morbid laughter, the sound distorted and strange. This was no longer the man who had kissed her in the bathroom. Gone was the man who caused certain parts of her anatomy to come alive. The only thing he evoked in her now was fear.

Jackson leaned closer still, the hand around her neck tightening as he did so. It wasn't enough to choke her, yet, but it was enough to let her know that he could crush her windpipe in a second. Flashbacks of their time in that bathroom came to the forefront of her mind and she found it difficult to differentiate the two. Maybe her brain was getting less air then she thought.

And when he brought his lips to hers a second time all sense of logic fled.

This kiss however was starkly different from that of before. In place of the passion was possession. A deep, feral thing. It was savage kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth, taking possession of every inch. His teeth gnashed against her own. She reared her head back in an attempt to get away, but it was no use. There was no getting away, he wouldn't let her.

He wouldn't stop. Unrelenting. And he seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in her helplessness. Slowly she inched to the side, desperate to get away. Gone were the memories of the time in the bathroom and in its place were the memories of that long ago day in the parking lot. It was happening all over again. No matter what, she needed to get away.

Jackson followed all her movements, mouth firmly attached to hers. Right hand freely roaming her body. She started to struggle now, hands pushing at his chest, head trying to twist away, feet moving to the side faster and faster. In the back of her mind she knew the edge of the stairs was coming up soon, but she did care. She needed him off her.

And suddenly she was falling, every part of her body hitting either the wall or the hard, wooden stairs. Her arms and legs taking the brunt of the impact. Finally, after what felt like forever, she stopped. Everything ached, she couldn't move. She knew she was still alive because of the immense pain that she was in. Being dead wouldn't hurt nearly as much. Vaguely she heard Jackson limping down the stairs. Slowly, lethargically she lifted herself up on shaking arms, and as she was about to push herself to her knees she was grabbed from behind, a hand cruelly twisting in her hair.

Then, out of know where a gunshot sounded, and she fell forward once again.

* * *

**There you go. Personally, I think this chapter sucked. But hey, that's just my opinion. I know that the only opinions that matters are yours, the readers (and reviewers). But it needed to be written because I needed something that was inbetween my last chapter and the stuff coming up, a filler chapter really. I'm sorry that I skipped over the whole airport chase thing, it just didn't need to be in there. I couldn't work with it at all and I didn't want to waste space. I tried really hard to not make it just a bland reiteration of what happened in the movie (which it still turned out to be, but hey, I'm not perfect). So you know what to do...Review, review, review. I know it's bad, but I still want to know what goes on in your head after you read this. So pleeeeeease review. Thankies. :o)**


	3. Chapter 3

Dear diary,

_It's been seven months since the events of my red eye flight, and five months since that stupid therapist told me that keeping a journal might help me work through my 'thoughts and feelings'. He's a quack, I'm convinced. But, Dad says he's okay and worth the money, so I'm giving it more time before I call it quits. He knows that me and psychiatrists don't mix. He shouldn't be surprised, not really. I probably shouldn't bad month my therapist too much since I have to show this to him every so often, but he did say that I could write anything in it that I wanted, and seeing as how I've only written in it three times since I was supposed to start…_

_But anyway, things at the Lux Atlantic are going as well as can be expected. We've been in a pretty nasty slump for the past few months, but then again I'm not surprised. When someone is nearly blown up while staying in a hotel, it's a given that people aren't going to want to stay there. Whoever said that the only bad press you can have is no press was wrong. The press that we've gotten has been pretty darn shitty. The bosses aren't to happy, but they're as understanding as can be given the circumstances. On the plus side though, they made Cynthia into a manager. She deserves it, especially after what happened. If someone can handle stressful situations, it's her. Well, after a mini freak out session, but she's getting better. Suite 4080 is nearly done being rebuilt, though I really doubt that anyone is going to want to stay there. We'll just add it to the list of rooms in the crisis folder. _

_Dad seems to be handling things rather well, given that he shot a man. But considering who that man was, I don't think he's losing much sleep over the matter. But me on the other hand; I honestly can't remember the last time that I had a decent nights sleep. Actually, forget that. I can't remember the last time I actually really slept. It's like every time I shut my eyes, I see his. Those impossibly blue eyes are just staring at me. They won't go away. It makes me want to just tear my hair out. It's driving me crazy. He's haunting me, I know it. I can't sleep for more than an hour or two without being woken up by a nightmare. Night terrors are what they're called. Not that I'm unfamiliar with it. After the incident in the parking lot I got them all the time. But they had finally gone away. I could finally sleep through the night without waking every five fucking minutes. But now, because of HIM, it's all over again. He's ruining my life night after night. I try to cover the circles as best I can, but makeup can only do so much. I know people see it. I see it in the way they look at me, and treat me. Like I'm walking on eggshells. But in a way, I guess I am. _

_Everywhere I go, there he is. He's in every man I see. His eyes there. Hair over there. I even think I hear his voice. His voice that is before the pen. My therapist says that it'll pass, that it's just a phase. I barely go out in public by myself anymore. Either Cynthia or Dad go out with me. I'm isolating myself, but I can't help it. I should stop. Yet knowing what I should be doing and actually doing it are starkly different things. But its been months. How long can I go on like this? I feel like I'm going to go crazy, if I'm not already. I've become obsessed. Maybe as obsessed as he was when he was watching me. I call the police station nearly everyday on the status of how he is. But they keep telling me the same thing. No change, and if there was I'd be the first to know. No change means that he's still in the hospital (but they won't tell me which one). That he's still recovering. I don't know if I believe them anymore. Half of me thinks that they're just saying that so I won't keep asking. But they should realize that I won't stop. Never._

_I was an idiot in my last session. I slipped on the one thing that I didn't want him to know. _

_The kiss._

_The one in the airplane lavatory._

_I told him that it didn't mean anything to me, and that I don't think about it. But that was a lie. I think about it everyday. His lips on mine. Sometimes I swear my lips still tingle. That's wrong, right? I'm not supposed to feel this way about the man that hijacked my life. I'm supposed to feel revolted. But I don't, very much the opposite than that. I must be really messed up in the head if I liked that kiss. But the fact is, he made me feel more like a woman than I have since that day. I felt desirable. Wanted. And sometimes, after thinking on his kiss in the dead of night, I wonder how he's doing. I mean, really doing. How his rehabilitation is coming along. If the puncture wound on his neck has healed yet (it must have, it's been long enough, right?). If they were able to take the bullets out okay, or if they're still there. Does he get any visitors? Is he lonely?_

_This is all ridiculous, I know. But I can't stop myself._

_I need to get on with my life. But my life just resolves around Jackson Rippner, and it feels like it always will._

_It just all seems so hopeless right now. _

_Well, you said to write everything I was thinking. So here it is._

_Maybe I just find it easier to write all my thoughts than say them, seems less judgmental to me._

_Until my next breakdown,_

_Lisa_

* * *

**Here you go. It's a lot sooner than I thought. But I got really good inspiration and just sat and typed it (which is all I seem to be doing this semester).**

**I actually like this chapter, which is rare. I hope you like it too. I felt that there needed to be much more of how Lisa is feeling and all that jazz. It'll pick up more in the coming chapters, I promise. It won't be this boring for long...I hope. So now do what you do best. Review!...please. :o)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He spent four months in that hospital. Four months of agonizing pain and not nearly enough pain killers. Four months of planning and plotting. Four months of favors being redeemed and phone calls to all the right people. After four months in that hospital, Jackson Rippner was dead.

Well, at least that's what all the paperwork said. Died after having gone into cardiac arrest, at 11:57pm on a clear Sunday night.

By midnight that same evening the body of one Jackson Rippner had disappeared. _That_ paperwork indicating that it had gone into the incinerated before an autopsy could be preformed; confusing him with another poor soul who had requested to be cremated. When the hospital found out about its mistake, it was too late to do anything, and the real, the alive, Jackson Rippner was already gone, on his way to one of the many places he was currently renting. And out of the multitude of apartments and hotel rooms, this one was located in Miami.

He spent most of his time recuperating, not once going out in public in case he was recognized. After the events of that eventful flight, the news story that followed was prominent on the evening news night after night for a good week and a half. His picture splashed across newspapers and TV screens alike. He wasn't noticed where he was staying because his rent had been automatically taken out of bank account while he had been away. there was no need to go by the front desk when he returned. Just went in the back way and up to his floor. Let it never be said that he was never unprepared. SoHe hired a student from the local university, someone looking to make an extra buck or two, to do his grocery shopping for him. The two had never met in person, per Jackson's request, but only over the phone. The student thinking that he was an old man, his still scratchy voice helping him for once. The youth would leave the bags of food outside his door and an envelope with his pay would be left under the mat. This arrangement worked out perfectly for Jackson, the kid only knew him by an assumed name, and thought that he was someone else entirely; an old recluse. It was perfect really.

It didn't take him to long to be back to par. His voice had healed remarkably, the bullet wounds closed, and his mind firmly fixed on what he needed to do next. His mind consumed with only one thing.

Lisa Reisert.

Oh, he wouldn't kill her. Oh no. That would be too definitive too final, No, he wanted her around for a long time. Time enough to make her regret what she did, time enough for her to know who's really in charge.

The first day out of his room, nearly eight months after having been first put into the hospital, was spent looking around the area in which he was. Having donned a hat and a large pair of sunglasses, he hoped he would be unrecognizable. He scanned the area, even taking time to eat in one of the family own restaurants that were nearby. Locating the police station and the fire station, he was happy to note that it would take them a good ten minutes to get to where he was, plenty of time for him to get away, should the need arise. In the subsequent week, Jackson ventured out everyday, taking notes on the main streets, side streets, alleys, and anything else he deemed important to know. By the time he was finished he had a vast working knowledge of the area. Not that he would be there long. Once he had what he needed, he would move on to an area he knew much better. Someplace more private. He did not want to be interrupted.

Jackson returned to his room, as always avoiding the busy lobby. He went to the balcony and took in the breathtaking view of the ocean. In the whole place, this was his favorite spot. He breathed in the scent of the water and relaxed for a few precious moments. It was rare that he was able to unwind this way. His mind finally taking a break from all his planning. Yet, his mind still went to Lisa, as it was prone to do.

Jackson couldn't deny that she was beautiful. He'd have to be dumb and blind to do that. Then his mind took the familiar path to where that kiss was. The first kiss he gave her, not the second one, the rape of her mouth. Her lips were soft, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel them again. And, he had noted, she smelled of strawberries.

Oh yes, he would have fun with her indeed. He thought of all the wonderful things he would do to her. Well, wonderful for him at least. Just because he thought she was beautiful and tasted amazing, didn't mean that was going to save her.

The view from the balcony may have been his favorite spot, but it wasn't the best aspect of the room.

The best part was, it was located in the Lux Atlantic.

* * *

**Finally some Jackson. See, the stories picking up. **

**Coming up: A reunion of sorts. **

**You know what to do. Review, please. To be honest, I've been having a kind of iffy week. You know, new college (I just transfered), far away from home, classes started, yadda yadda yadda. But those review alerts emails brighten my day. Makes me know people actually read my crap...er, stories. So, the moral of the story is to review. I don't care what you say. It could be completely unrelated to the story for all I care. :o). Have a good day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Lisa Reisert was not having a very good day. First, her coffee maker decided that it would take the day off. So, deviating from her normal schedule, she decided to make a pit stop at one of the hundreds of Starbucks that was on her way to work. Though, she did make sure that it was the closest one to the Lux Atlantic, and that it was very busy, so as not to be one of the only ones there. On the downside of her plan, the busyness of the coffee house made her late to work by over fifteen minutes. Then, once having gotten to work the computer systems crashed a mere five minutes after she had gotten there, causing numerous delays and irate customers. The stack of comment cards had dwindled to half its original size in less than an hour. Two of the hotel receptionist had called in sick, which left Lisa and Cynthia with double duty. There were plumbing problems in three of the rooms, and, according to those staying in the rooms, the problem wasn't being fixed fast enough. Lisa was barely able to hang on, and by noon she was thoroughly exhausted and ready for a nice long bath, not to mention ready to pull her hair out.

She didn't even notice that she had forgotten to take her lunch break because the problems she was dealing with were of an all consuming variety. And now, the couple staying in, the dreaded, 4080 had just decided that they would not, under any circumstances stay in that room any longer. The only reason they had been placed there to begin with was because their reservation had been lost and it was the only suite available.

"Mr. and Mrs…," Lisa fumbled for the name, "Stevens. I'm aware of the history of that room. But for the past two days there did not seem to be a problem. I can assure that that room is perfectly suitable…" she trailed off, her forcibly cheerful voice drifting as she realized her words were having no effect.

"Well _two days ago_ we weren't aware of the status of the room," the snooty voice of Alicia Stevens started. Had she been living under a rock, it was all over the news, much to Lisa's chagrin. "It is unacceptable. We will not stay there any longer. We have no qualms about discontinuing are patronage to this establishment." She looked to her husband for back up, to which he dutifully nodded.

Lisa took a deep, calming breath. "I can assure you, with the utmost degree of certainty, that you are perfectly safe in that-"

"That is not the point, you insipid girl!" Mrs. Stevens snapped.

She was a loss, she was usually more than able to deal with angered customers, but for some reason all her training left her. She simply…didn't have fight. Lisa racked her brain, desperately trying to think of some way to salvage this.

Apparently, she had taken too much time because Mrs. Stevens continued on, "That's it! We're leaving. And you can bet that we will be speaking to your superiors about this." She walked away, presumably to pack up their belongings to move on the next hotel. The entire way to the bank of elevators ranting, in a voice loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, "They need to hire new help here. Completely unacceptable. They obviously have no care for those that keep them in business…" Blissfully they got on the next elevator and the closed doors barred any more comments from escaping.

Lisa breathed deep, leaning her head down, willing herself to keep control.

"Well," she heard from behind her, "we certainly know who wears the pants in _that_ relationship."

Lisa turned around, and she couldn't have been happier to see Cynthia standing there. She was always able to make Lisa at least feel marginally better.

"This day can_not_ get any worse."

Cynthia's eyes widened. "Don't say that! You'll jinx yourself," she hushed Lisa hurriedly, as if her words could truly bring about something worse, to which Lisa just laughed.

Whatever comment Lisa was about to dispense was cut off by the in-house phone ringing, signifying there was an issue in one of the rooms. Or, blissfully, someone just had a question as to where the local Chinese restaurant was. Cynthia quickly went over to answer the phone while Lisa handled the check in of the next people in line.

Five check-ins later, Lisa turned around to look for her water bottle and saw Cynthia standing there, a puzzled expression on her face. "Are you okay?"

Cynthia worried her lower lip for a few seconds before answering, "Well, you see. I have a problem."

Lisa turned around to lean on the counter, after first making sure no one was there that needed her help. "Shoot." Inwardly, she flinched at her own choice of words, then mentally berated herself for it.

"Okay, here's the deal. The guy in 1029 can't seem to get his air conditioner to work. I walked him through it, but whatever it is doesn't seem to be working. The maintenance guys are all busy with those freaking toilets, and I…well, I have a date. And I promised him I wouldn't be late, because I've been late for all our other dates. He's starting to think I'm not interested, and that's totally not the problem. I mean he's gorgeous and wonderful and…"

"Cynthia! Woah, wait a minute. Did you even breathe during that?" Lisa interrupted her ramblings, feeling bad that Cynthia was put in this position.

"Okay, calming down now," she took a few deep breaths to accentuate her point before continuing, "I just feel really bad, cause this guy said he's really sensitive to warm temperatures, and he's going out for a bit, and I just wanted to fix it before he came back. 'Cause, you know, we really can't afford more people leaving. And…breathing again."

Lisa nearly laughed at her friend. She got riled up some of the most unimportant things. "Okay, why don't we just have one of the incoming desk guys go up when they get here."

She seemed to think on that for a minute. "Um, they're new."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, "…so?"

Sighing, Cynthia responded, "They only _just_ got trained on the new computer program. I mean, I know an A/C is a simple thing, but, well, they haven't really had time to go up to the rooms and check things out. I just want this to go right." She stopped for a moment, thinking. "Well, I'll just call Danny and tell him I'll only be ten minutes more…"

"No," Lisa quickly interjected. She didn't want her friends love life to be interrupted over something as simple as an air conditioner. If Lisa wasn't dating, she was just glad her friend was.

Cynthia was genuinely confused. "Then what-?"

"I'll do it."

"No, Lisa, you don't have to. I'm sure that guy will be fine 'til one of the maintenance guys is free." Cynthia was loathe to give Lisa any extra work that could be done by others.

Lisa just shook her head, "It's as you said. We can't afford for him to leave. It's easy, I'll be in an out in two seconds."

"But-"

"I'll even go home right after," she added quickly.

Cynthia seemed to think for a minute. Then, "Take a few days off."

Now it was Lisa's turn to be confused, "What?"

"I won't be late for my date, and we won't make him wait any longer than he has to, if you promise me you'll take a few days off. You haven't had a break since…" she trailed off, but Lisa knew what she meant.

"Fine."

Still Cynthia looked wary.

"I promise. Now go. Or you really will be late."

A huge smile broke out, "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

After a brief hug, she was off. Nearly skipping in happiness. Lisa smiled after her for a few seconds, before grabbing her set of keys and went off in the direction of room 1029, after making sure the new desk guys had gotten there okay. With her day, she wouldn't have been surprised if they were late with some reason or another.

She made it up to the appointed room without running into anymore problems. Not even thinking, she used her master key to open the door, having been told that the occupant was out for a while. Closing the door behind her, she made her way over to the air conditioner in question, opened it up and took a look around. After a few confusing minutes, she came the conclusion that nothing was wrong, and that maybe Cynthia had gotten the wrong room number. Putting the cover back on the unit, she stood up and straightened her skirt. Before she could turn around she was greeted by a eerily familiar deep voice.

"Well, I didn't except you to be up here so soon, what with all the problems going on today."

_No, it can't be_. It was the same voice that haunted her dreams every night. Shaking her head to dispel her thoughts, she came to the conclusion that it couldn't be who she thought it was, because, well, he was in jail. Knowing the only way to prove herself right was to turn around, that's what she did.

And she couldn't have been more wrong.

Because standing before her was none other than Jackson Rippner. The same Jackson Rippner that she had used as a pen holder. The Jackson Rippner that was in jail…But not, because he was standing in front of her, clad only in a pair of dark jeans. His hair still wet from a recent shower. And he was standing in front of the door.

So, Lisa did the only thing she could think of.

She screamed.

* * *

**Finally, we get to the good stuff. 'Cause I mean a half naked Jackson can _only_****be a good thing, right? Anyway, hoped you liked it. So, now it's time for you to work your magic aaaand...review! Please. :o)**

**Oh, and here are some thankies and things like that:**

**Jordana Trent- Yea, I tried my best to remember the lines, but hey, no one's perfect, lol. But some I did change on purpose...I just can't remember what they are right now.**

**trinity-matrix-13- Aw, thanks. I think I may have blushed a little bit. I try to proof read my stuff as much as possible, but especially with this fic I've been extra careful 'cause I don't have a beta for it. My usual one didn't see the movie, and isn't going to, so I've been left all on my lonesome. It's quite sad actually. But thanks for the awesome review!**

**Bombajio- Yea, I'm a huge fan of shock value, lol. **

**corinne-la- Jackson's the ultimate bad boy. A dash of evil and a huge helping of hotness. Yea, he's good. :o)**

**Angel of NoReturn- You're awesome. In the back of my mind I was hoping that there would be an teeny tiny lil bit of romantic interest there (apart from the beginnig) but, hey, that's what fanfiction is for. But I'm convinced that he does have some redeeming qualities. What with the look on his face when she was telling him about the scar. I hope you like the rest of the fic!**

**Evergreen702- Yea, the normal college stuff is stressful too. I've only been in classes for 4 days and already they're just heaping the work on. Which isn't too bad, it's handle-able (I love my ability to make up words, lol). But the fact that I'm in a _completely_ new area is wierd too, ya know? All my writing is getting me through this, just takes me away, as odd as that sounds. I'm not crazy, I swear. :o)**

**silentsister- -big hug right back at you- I'm dealing, lol. It's a workable situation.I'm taking 5 classes now, which isn't bad at all. But I had the bad luck of choosing all the professor's who absolutely love huge courseloads. Such is life. Don't worry about not reviewing for all the chapters. I know how the school work thing goes. Just, drop a line here and there. I want to make sure you don't lose interest or anything, 'cause that would be a bad thing, lol. Good luck with school!**

**And a HUGE thank you to everyone else who left _wonderful_ reviews as well: linsee, MistressMurchadh, colin-fan, lauren, Chanel86, beeker986, thesupernugget, TheGirlin14G, Asanji, blueyedtears, browny, Winged Seraph, Claire Hall, Bimefl, Lily1186, Tayla...I sincerely apologize if I forgot anyone, I will feel horrible if I do. Feel free to yell at me ifI did. :o)**

**Hey, if anyone wants, or cares, my AIM is: BlackCandleLight. Feel free to IM me, I'll answer. Questions. Comments. Life in general. I'm here. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"You…but…jail…," she couldn't form a sentence. It was all too surreal. He was in jail, wasn't he? …But not.

He chuckled, taking in the sight that was Lisa Reisert. He had never seen her so flustered, not even that night on the plane. It was true what he said, he wasn't expecting her so soon. So, figuring he still had time he decided to take a quick shower before she arrived. He had just shut the water off when she walked in. Quickly donning a pair of pants, he quietly opened the bathroom door and had been greeted with the sight of Lisa, kneeling on the floor in front of the supposedly-broken air conditioner. The thought that she should be kneeling in front of _him_ quickly crossed his mind, but he pushed it away, wanting to deal with it another time.

Jackson carefully stepped out of the bathroom and stood in front of the door, her only means of escape. He wasn't going to let her get away. He would not be stopped.

"Cat got your tongue?" his voice was low and deep, a smile spread across his face. This was too much fun for him. He stalked towards her, slow and graceful, muscles rippling as he went. She backed up, matching him step for step, frantically looking for a way out, but he was careful to keep the door directly behind him. Finally, she was backed up again the air conditioner, her eyes fearfully trained on him. Jackson kept walking, even after she stopped, coming toe-to-toe with the shaking brunette.

"What, Leese, not happy to see me?" He didn't expect her to answer, and was, in fact, expecting that intake of breath, one heralding a scream. Quick as lightning, his right hand was over her mouth blocking her from making any sounds, and his left went to rest between her shoulder blades. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?" It should be illegal, how much fun he was having with this, and granted, it probably was.

She started shaking her head trying to dislodge his hand, but his grip was iron, it wasn't going anywhere.

He tsked, moving his head down to her ear, his breath tickling her neck. He smiled wickedly, "You're not going anywhere. You're mine now, Leese. What, did you think I was lying when I told you that I would steal you? You should know I don't lie." His grip on her face tightened, "Did you think a little bodily harm was going to stop me?" He was hissing now, nearly spitting with anger at the remembrance of what she had done to him, "No, it only makes me want to hurt you more, Leese."

Her eyes widened, struggling in earnest now, trying to kick out with her legs, but he just moved closer, legs trapped between his own, bending her backwards onto the cold surface of the air conditioner.

Jackson moved his face directly in front of hers. "Don't fight me," he bit the words out. Tears were starting to drip onto his hand, but it only excited him more. He had the urge to lick away them, but refrained. Plenty of time for that later. But now, he needed to get them out of there to somewhere she would be completely helpless. He was taking no chances that she would be found in her own hotel, no matter how much he liked the irony of her being held captive in her own place of work.

"Now, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way, and personally, I'd prefer the hard way. But," he shrugged his bare shoulders, "I'm going to give you the choice." He straightened up, bringing her with him, hands still firmly attached to her body. "I'm going to let you go, and you're going to stand there, _without_ speaking, like a good girl."

Slowly, he removed his hand from her back, caressing her shoulders as he did so. Then, he withdrew the hand from her mouth, and when she didn't make a move to scream, he stepped back. Barely repressing a smirk, he turned his back on her, fully aware of what she would try and do.

And she didn't disappoint.

The second his back was fully towards her, and his attention, seemingly, elsewhere she lunged forward, pushing him away and sprinting towards the door. Smiling like the predator he was, he waited until the last second before going for her. Giving her the impression that she had freed herself, but the second before she touched the doorknob, he was on her. Using more force than necessary, he slammed her into the door, face first. She put her hands to the wood, trying to push back. He gave her a little room, then his arms were around her; right one around her neck and his left around her stomach, securing her arms to the side.

She screamed, though, not nearly as loud as she would have liked. "Let go!" In response he just tightened the arm around her neck, telling her without words that he could choke her in a second. She quieted, but continued to try and free her arms, to which he only laughed. A deep, masculine laugh, full of triumph.

He pulled her backwards, towards the dresser, taking the arm from around her neck; he opened the top drawer and, without taking his eyes off his captive, rummaged around until his hand found what it was looking for. Bringing his hand back to his side, he said, "If you had just followed directions, I wouldn't have to do this."

She stilled for a second, like he knew she would. "Do what?" Her voice was filled with fear, and as much as he knew she tried to sound brave, it came out shaky and unsure.

He smiled, though he knew she couldn't see it. He popped that cap on the item in his hand, loud enough for her to hear.

"What," her voice was louder, infused with some sense of control, "a pen? How original." She had fight left in her, which would make it that much more fun to break her.

He laughed deep in his throat, "No, don't worry, I'm not stealing your idea. This, however, is much more effective."

Feeling her body tense up, he brought the needle up to her neck, careful not to let her see. He lifted the bottom of her shirt just the tiniest bit, making it seem like that was the spot he was going for. And, once her attention was focused there, he jabbed the needle into her neck, causing more pain than he had to, and injected the substance with in. As brutally as he inserted it, he ripped it from her fragile skin, waiting for it to take effect.

Feeling her body loosen, he brought her over to the bed and threw her down and flipping her over so that she faced the ceiling. He could see her eyes glazing over as she fought to stay conscious. He wanted to be sure that the last thing she saw before she succumbed to the unconscious was his face peering down at her. His blue eyes glaring into her own. He wanted her to be afraid, wanted her to taste her own fear.

And as her eyes closed, he knew that she did.

* * *

**Sorry that took me so long to post, I'm just a wee bit sick. I hope you like this chappie. As I was writing Jackson's character got a little bit darker than I originally intended, but -shrugs- it works for me, and I hope it work for you too. Please please please review! It would make this sick lil author so happy. :o)**

**A big THANK YOU to everyone who has responded so far! You guys are awesome!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Have a good nap?"

Those were the words that greeted Lisa as the fog of unconsciousness left her. It took her a few moments to realize her surroundings. She was in car, in the back seat, and driving was…Jackson.

Then it hit her. Everything that happened in the hotel room; him coming out of the bathroom, her trying to escape, the needle pricking her neck. She started to struggle, realizing that her hands were tied behind her back, her ankles held with duct tape, and even more tape over her mouth. Trying to scream, the only thing that came out of her mouth were weak moans to which Jackson only laughed. Tears flowed freely and got caught up on the duct tape; she inhaled so sharply some of them went up her nose, so much pooled at her mouth.

"Keep doing that, sweet cheeks, and you'll tire yourself out. And trust me, you'll need all that energy for later," Jackson intoned over her struggle. She stilled instantly, his words striking her in her core. Terrified, her eyes flew to the rear view mirror, seeking his. Those cold blue eyes were fixed on the road, but she could tell there was a distinct smirk on his handsome face. Even tied up and completely at his mercy she couldn't help but notice the arousing masculinity that was Jackson Rippner.

Forgetting about the tape, she tried to speak, but abruptly stopped when she realized that he wouldn't be able to understand her.

Quirking an eyebrow into the mirror, he glanced back at her. "What's that you say? I couldn't quite understand you," he replied, maliciously.

Incensed, she tried desperately to rid herself of the tape holding her hands hostage, but stopped when he started speaking again, though this time much gentler, "Stop that, you'll just hurt yourself." After a few more seconds of silence, "Besides, we're almost there. You know, you took a pretty good nap there. Quite long. Been out for nearly a day."

A day? A full day? Lisa couldn't believe it. Surely someone must have realized she was missing by now. Cynthia…no, Cynthia thought she was relaxing on her day off. She wouldn't know something was amiss until tomorrow. And even then she was so scattered-brained sometimes that it could definitely take longer. But her father would notice…if he wasn't on a weeklong retreat with members of his old company. Lisa vaguely remembered him telling her about it the week before. He told her he was going to try to call her once a day, but they had recently had a fight in which she told her father point blank that he was too suffocating. And ever since that he had backed off significantly. Now though, she would give anything to have him call her ten times a day. Her thoughts were interrupted by small sharp objects hitting her face. Looking down in her lap she realized that they looked like…sunflower seed shells? She looked up, but had to quickly shut her eyes as more shells assaulted her. After they stopped, she cautiously opened her eyes, and sure enough, there was Jackson eating sunflower seeds. Lisa ducked her head as more shells were thrown her way. Taking another look at the shells that littered her body she came to the realization that she had not eaten in well over thirteen hours. And she had only had a very light dinner when she was at the hotel because she had planned to have something larger when she got home, but clearly she never got the chance.

Abruptly, the car came to a halt and Lisa was thrown forward into the space between the two front seats, her face coming dangerously close to the stick shift. As she tried to get up, Jackson exited the car and moved to the back door. Lisa wrenched herself backwards and tried as hard as she could to move to the opposite side of the car, but she had barely moved two inches when the door was thrown open.

Jackson leaned forward and grabbed at the duct tape that held her ankles, easily holding down her feeble attempts at kicking him. Taking hold of the tape he dragged her forward, her skirt rising the more she was pulled forward, it having got caught on the sticky leather upholstery. By the time her knees were out of the car, her skirt had wedged itself up around her waist, her red lace panties in full view.

He stopped pulling her and looked down at her appreciatively. Bringing his free hand up, he brought it to her inner thigh, and flicked at the lace. "Didn't have you pegged as the sexy lingerie type, Leese. Full of surprises you are."

Panic filled her and she renewed her struggles but he just shushed her. "Calm yourself. I'm not going to do anything to you…yet," he smirked at her as he went to remove his hand, bringing it across her as he did so. She flinched as his hand touched the outside of her panties.

Jackson leaned down, bringing his face close to hers and he roughly grabbed her around the waist, his hands digging in. He pulled back, taking her with him and throwing her to the ground. Her head snapped back and hit the ground hard enough to make her teeth chatter, but he gave her no respite. Jackson took her hair and wrapped it around his fist and started dragging her to the house that was in front of her. She desperately tried screaming again, from both fear and pain. Her eyes frantically searched for help, but she was loathe to notice that the house was set far back from the road, and surrounded by trees. There would be no help for her, no one would hear. The more he dragged her, the more her muscled screamed in agony from disuse. Being unconscious and in the back of a car for hours on end really took its toll. Lisa leaned her head backwards, trying to take some of the pressure off her hair, but it barely helped.

It felt like it was taking forever to get to the door, but finally she was there. Jackson let go of her and her head fell backwards, striking the stone step. She didn't know how much more her poor head could take before she was rendered unconscious again. Finally, blissfully, Jackson picked her up, cradling her (oddly) gently in his arms as he opened the door wider with his hip. After taking a few steps into the entryway, he kicked the door shut.

He brought her into the adjacent living room and deposited her onto the black leather couch, and took a few steps backwards, arms held out wide, "Well, what do you think of my humble abode?" Her eyes narrowed, as she tried to express the hate she felt towards him at the moment with a single look. But he just smiled. A decidedly evil smile.

Jackson seemed to contemplate her for a moment then strode purposefully back to her side. Lisa tried feebly to shy into the interior of the couch, wishing that the leather would just swallow her whole. Bringing his hand to her face, he looked her in the eye. His own taking on a soft look. Ever so carefully he trailed his hand down the side of her face, her eyes involuntarily closing as she savored the feel. He stopped at the top corner of gray duct tape, his index finger stroking the edge. And before she knew what he was doing, the wicked glint came back to his eyes as he brutally ripped the tape from her mouth.

And she screamed.

* * *

**Again, I started this chapter out in one place, and it took itself in another direction. More dark Jackson for all those who wanted it, and for those who didn't, well...I hope you like it anyways. I'm really glad I got this chapter up before Friday, that was my goal. Oh, and I'm feeling much better, my nasty cold is nearly gone. I can't wait til I can breathe again.**

**Review please! Cause you're all so awesome, I know that you will. Remember, you can say anything in your reviews, and if it has anything to do with the fic, then bonus points for you (thought what they are redeemable for, I have quite decided yet, lol).**


	8. Chapter 8

**After much waiting...**

**Chapter Eight**

"You know, I was going to kill you, slowly and painfully. But, I think I've changed my mind," Jackson explained after her screaming stopped.

Lisa decided not to try and respond, her mouth in pain from having the duct tape viscously ripped off. In fact, she could feel little beads of blood flowing down her chin, but she made no move to wipe it off, not knowing what he would do if he saw her making any sudden movements. Hell, any movements at all.

"I'm going to untie you," he continued, not looking in her direction at all, his comments seemed offhand, "don't bother running," he added, "everything is locked, but, feel free to tire yourself out."

She glared at him, giving herself permission to do only that. Warily, she watched as he approached her, unsure of what his motives really were. He kneeled down and swung her legs so that they were dangling off the couch. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a switchblade, to which Lisa involuntarily flinched at. Letting out a knowing chuckle, he somewhat roughly picked her feet up and slipped the blade in between her flesh and the knife, and with a deft upward motion, her bonds were cut. Unconsciously she rolled her ankles the minute the ropes fell, trying to dispel the discomfort that she was feeling.

"Up," was his next, curt command. She didn't waste any time in complying, wanting desperately to have her arms free again. With his hands on her shoulders, he spun her around, quickly cutting the ropes that bound her hands. Her shoulders ached from having been in that position for so long and she gently rubbed her wrists trying to sooth the burn from the ropes.

Once he was finished he simply stepped back, to which Lisa was quite surprised. She had expected more pain to come her way, or, he was lulling her into a false sense of security to which she knew he was more than capable. "Follow me," he instructed, turning his back and walking out of the room. Not wanting to incur his wrath she followed, if a little warily.

They walked down a short hallway and came to the kitchen. Moving into the interior of the room Lisa gingerly took a seat at the kitchen table, sitting as close to the edge of the seat as possible, without falling off. She wanted to be prepared for whatever he threw her way, and she wanted to be able to run as quick as possible. Not that she would get very far, but she would cross that bridge when she got there. She watched as he went over to the refrigerator, he seemed to be rummaging for something before he stopped and looked back towards her. "You've been out for a damned long time. I'm assuming you're hungry. What do you want?"

She raised her eyebrow and she said, before thinking, "What, not going to let me starve?"

"I already told you," he snapped, "that I'm not going to kill you. You should know by now that I don't lie."

Lisa didn't respond and it wasn't long until Jackson turned his back to her and went back to looking for something to eat. In the end he just got her a bowl of cereal. She sat staring at the cornflakes that were sitting in the milk, not having taken a bite. Even though she saw him pour it into the bowl from the container (and the same with the milk) she still wasn't too sure if she wanted to eat something that had been offered by one Jackson Rippner, not matter how much her stomach voted in favor of the food. Her thoughts were interrupted when Jackson cleared his throat and said, "If you don't eat those soon, they'll be soggy. And I know how much you _hate_ soggy cereal."

At that her eyes flew up to his and she knew he was deadly serious. She shuttered to think of how he knew that. Yes, she knew that he had followed her in the weeks before the flight but she had no idea how closely he had actually watched her. How could she not have known?

Picking up the spoon she begrudgingly ate the semi-soggy cereal, forcing herself to eat it all.

An hour later found Lisa sitting in one of the spare bedrooms in Jackson's home. He had brought her up after she finished her bowl of cereal, and she had been sitting in the center of the bed ever since. Not moving, her mind kept going over the number of horrible things that Jackson could, and probably would, do to her that didn't involve her dying in the end. And after each one she shuddered. She had never been so terrified in her life; for even on the plane she had a plane, there was the possibility of escape once the plane landed. But now she was locked in a house that she had no idea where it was, she could be out of the state for all she knew. Trying desperately not to cry, she laid down on her side, facing the door. Closing her eyes she took a few deeps breaths, trying to quell the rising panic. Panic would do her no good. She needed to keep a level head, as hard as that may be.

It hit her all of a sudden how truly tired she was. All this semi-panicking was an exhausting thing. She closed her eyes, determined not to fall asleep. She didn't know how long she stayed that way, slowing slipping towards unconsciousness, but the second she felt herself fall, she pulled herself back, opening her eyes for a few brief seconds.

It was during one of her more calming interludes that she heard the door opening, far beyond the point of caring, she kept her eyes closed. It wasn't until she felt the bed sink beside her that she opened her eyes, and leaning above her was a very calm looking Jackson, right arm on her other side, effectively pinning her down with nowhere to go.

Startled, she just lay there, gazing up at him, wondering what he had planned. She watched as he brought his head closer, stopping right next to her ear. "Just relax," he breathed, his breath hot against her neck. Nodding faintly, she waited to see what he would do next and she flinched slightly when she felt him kiss the side of her neck.

He chuckled to himself at her reaction, but that didn't stop him. Leaving a trail of small kisses, he followed the line of her neck down to her collarbone, then across a short way to the very center, stopping at the dip in the bone. Laving the area with his tongue, he brought his left hand up and cradled the back of her neck, gently tipping it up, leaving her throat exposed. He brought his left leg around and straddled her body, though she was too busy focusing on his tongue to realize it at first. It wasn't until he settled his weight more fully on her that she noticed, briefly struggling as panic started to cloud her mind.

Jackson lifted his head and peered down at her. "Shh," was his gentle command. She ceased her struggles and just looked at him, watching his progress as he leaned to capture her lips. It was gentle kiss, yet forceful. As she opened her mouth to gasp, Jackson took that as an invitation for his tongue, and wasted no time in thrusting it in her mouth. Lisa didn't know what to do, this kiss was different from the ones before, there was a gentleness to this was that was lacking in the others. It almost made her want to give in.

After thoroughly investigating her the recesses of her mouth, he traced his tongue along her jaw line, then down further, past her collarbone, to the collar on her shirt. He sat up and looked down at her, his hands on her hips, seemingly contemplating something when his hands started their upwards journey, reaching under her shirt until he was stopped by her bra. He cupped her breasts, thumbs trailing over the material covered flesh.

Bra or not, she felt her body responding, her nipples tightening under his touch. He swooped down again to kiss her, stifling the moan that she almost, involuntarily, let escape. He drew back slightly to gaze in her eyes, a soft smile on his face. She felt her body responding wholeheartedly to him, heat pooling at her center. Her mind full of nothing but thoughts of him. She groaned slightly when he renewed his assault of her neck, suckling on the sweet spot just below her ear.

"Lisa," he moaned against her neck, his hands never stilling on her breasts.

She let out a groan when she heard him, leaning her head back, giving him full access to her.

"Lisa," he said again, this time louder.

"Mmm…Jackson…" she moaned in response, thoroughly reveling in the feelings that he brought out in her.

"Lisa," the voice was more stern now, and suddenly she felt herself being shaken.

And next thing she knew, she was awake.

* * *

**SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I know, I'm a horrible horrible person. Feel free to hate me now, I deserve it. If you haven't boycotted this story for lack of updates, please please REVEIW. So, I've been having a pretty depressing couple of weeks, which is part of the reason I haven't updated. I've been sick, I had an absolutely horrible birthday (so far, being 19 sucks), and I've had play rehearsal. But I will do the best I can to update a lot faster, 'cause I feel really bad about the delay. So...that being said, let me just reiterate the plea for reviews. :o)**


	9. Chapter 9

**On with the show... **

**Chapter Nine**

She blinked and tried to clear her sleep fogged mind. Her dream was still vivid in her head and the voice at the end sounded so real that she almost thought...then she looked up. Perched above her sprawled out body was Jackson, looking smug in his handsomeness, and that was when she realized that the voice at the end of her dream was not, in fact, a figment of her imagination. Lisa felt her face redden, praying that she hadn't said anything, or made any types of noises that would indicate what kind of dream she was having. But, from the very knowing look in Jackson's eyes, she knew her hopes were in vain.

"So," he drawled, his smile widening, "some dream you were having, huh?"

And that's when she noticed that his hand was splayed on her stomach, but instead of the churning digust that she was expecting, it felt almost, pleasant? Shaking her head of her thoughts, she turned her face more fully to him. "It, uh," she cleared her throat, "was a nightmare." Lisa inwardly cringed, knowing that she had never been a very good liar and this lie in particular was not very good.

Jackson tried not to laugh at her falsehood. Her face was flushed and he couldn't tell if it was in embarassment or arousal. But he was guessing it was the latter. "A nightmare, huh? Didn't sound like one. What with all that moaning that was going on. Unless, it was one of those erotic horror nightmares..." He trailed off, raising an eyebrow in question. He watched her face fill with shock as her brain registered his words and she rushed to sit up, or, at least, she tried to. The hand on her stomach and his other hand, which was now cupping her neck, was doing a good job of keeping her on her back...which was not a thought she wanted to entertain at the moment. "C'mon, Leese, what's the matter?"

She glued her eyes to the ceiling, trying to pretend that his hands on her body was having no affect on her. Flashes of her dream kept coming to the forefront of her mind and she could no longer differentiate between what was dream and what was reality. She started to panic, eyes going wide, breathing fast and uneven.

He looked down at her in concern. Trying to get her eyes to focus on his, he found that he couldn't. Surely his closeness couldn't be causing this kind of reaction. For all the times he had invaded her personal space a full blown panic attack was not one of the reactions he was used to getting. He needed to calm her down, because for all his wanting to torture and torment her, he did not want to see her like this. Moving his hand from her stomach, he slid it down to the outside of her hip and started rubbing the exposed skin, her shirt having ridden up sometime during her...dream. He leaned down so that his mouth was right by her ear and started whispering, "Shh, Leese. Calm down." Gently, he licked the outside of her ear and smiled when he felt her shudder. Soon her breathing evened out and he slid his hand under her back, pushing her breasts against him.

"What, uh...," she gulped, "time is it?" She was desperately trying to ignore the things he was doing to her, but it was very hard.

"Late," was his simpled answer as he moved his mouth down to her jaw, lightly teasing it with both teeth and tongue.

Jackson knew exactly what he was doing, she gave him that, as she fought to gain control of herself. "Can you-"

"Shh," he cut her off, enjoying himself as his tongue assaulted her throat. Enjoying himself too much maybe, if he let himself think about it. He should be tormenting her, making her pay for what she did to him. But instead he found...he found what? That he was slowly, and surely, seducing the woman that put him in jail? That thought stopped him where he was. Leaning back he peered down at Lisa, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Jackson Rippner did not seduce his targets. This was a man who had orcestrated the assassinations of top leaders, stateside and internationally, and here he was falling prey to all the useless emotions. He had learned long ago to lock everything away, but now, now all his training had deserted him.

Ripping himself away from the prone woman, he rushed from the room to deal with his thoughts and get himself back on track. Because the next time he went in that room, it would not be to seduce Lisa Reisert.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait. But, nonetheless, I hope you liked it. Honestly, it probably would have taken me longer to get it up (and it would have been longer) but I got a new tattoo today and I'm very excited so I decided to share the...er, happiness I guess. Aaaanyway, sorry for the delay, now that I actually have a direction to take this thing it shouldn't be too terribly long to post the next part. Review please! ...even though, I don't deserve it. :o)  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**In honor of the release of the Red Eye DVD, I give you...chapter!****  
**

**Chapter Ten**

Jackson sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, silently berating himself. How could he be so stupid? Emotions were for fools. And he, certainly, was no fool. He needed to get himself under control. That concept in and of itself gave him pause, never before had his iron clad control wavered. Never, and he had had far more difficult assignments and complicated dealings, but this...was different. _She _was different. No one had ever affected him like this. It was like...no. Shaking his head, he slammed his hand on the table, stood up and started pacing. He rounded the island in the center of the kitchen and made his way back to the table, only to repeat the path over and over. Jackson was like a caged animal, restless and volatile.

Deviating from the rut he was making in the floor, he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a Budweiser, the cool glass of the bottle soothing him somewhat. Popping the cap on the edge of the counter, he slammed the door shut and took a deep drink. The alcohol running smoothly down his throat. He savored the taste as he allowed himself this small indulgence, he was already batting a thousand, why not get drunk in the process? Though he never really would jeopardize everything just for the sake of getting shitfaced, as much as secretly wanted to. Jackson would not be beaten again by this woman.

Pacing resumed, he proceeded to try and come up with something, anything, that would tip the scales back in his favor. This woman had thrown him for a loop and if she didn't know it already, she would certainly figure it out soon. He certainly was not going to underestimate her a second time. As the saying went 'fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame you me', and it was never more true for him then.

Jackson smirked as he headed toward the stairs, plan forming in his head as he ascended them. He then made his way to his own bedroom, at the opposite end of the hall from Lisa. At first he was hesitant to place her so far away and had readily prepared one of the other rooms for her. Because, in a twisted way, he would always take care of her. From then on at least. But, then he realized that she had no way out of the house without him, and a few doors distance wouldn't really matter in the end. Shutting the door quietly behind, he started to plot. She would never guess what he would do next. Never see it coming. For he would no longer be the homicidal maniac. The would-be rapist (though, he knew that he would never stoop to such a level). The discreet stalker. Or the consummate lover. No, now he would take on a role that he had never ventured near before. Something that he had significantly less practice in, but nonetheless, he would master.

The caring suitor.

Oh, he never believed for one second that he would soften up. Nope, he would be as firm and demanding as ever. But, he was going to go about it in a different way. And he was certainly looking forward to it.

* * *

Lisa sat huddled against the headboard, shaking, blanket covering her as if it would somehow protect her from evil. She slammed her fist down against the bed as she told herself at least fifty different ways how angry she was at herself. She couldn't believe she had acted so...so..._wantonly_. What was she, some kind of whore? Throwing her body at any man that so much as gave her some iota of attention? No, she swallowed, she certainly wasn't that. It had to have been some kind of temporary insanity brought on by that _dream _of hers. Never would she in her right mind act in such a way. And with him! She couldn't believe how her mind and her body disconnected like that. There was no way that she should even be looking at a man in any such was. Not after that day in the parking thought.

She shivered as pictures from her dream became interlaced with that hateful memory. Except this time Jackson turned away in digust, not that she could blame him. She was dirty and damaged and so many more things of that nature. No man would ever want after knowing what happened to her. And Jackson did know and yet he still...no. She wouldn't think of it. Even though with some of the looks he had given her, they made her feel almost pretty. Almost like she was worth something to him. Otherwise, why would he go through such trouble to get at her? Shaking her head she dislodged such ludicrous thoughts. There was no way that Jackson Rippner made her feel anything other than hate...At least, that was what she was telling herself.

Pushing the memories back like she so often did, she concentrated on the very large problem at hand. Being locked in a house with a madman. A madman that knew the layout of this house like she had known the layout of hers. There was no way she could get the upperhand here. She was doomed. There really was no where for her to go, Jackson was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

She was helpless. Defensless. Lost...Scared.

Hearing footsteps in the halls, she huddled down farther in the blanket, using it as a downy shield. She cringed as the handle turned and the door opened. Gulping, she watched as a worried looking Jackson was revealed. He looked hesitant as he stepped into the room. "I, uh...just wanted to check that you were okay."

Lisa was stunned. Absolutely floored. He wanted to know if she was okay? At first she didn't know what to think. Okay? Okay! No she wasn't _okay_, she was scared out of her mind. But she wouldn't let him know that. She would show a brave face, as much as it killed her. And she very well knew that it might.

"F-fine," she stuttered. Cursing at herself as she realized that that didn't sound brave at all.

Smiling sheepishly he nodded. Knowingly, he replied, "I figured. Just let me know if there is anything you need." He barely repressed a cringe had he thought of how stupid he sounded, but he knew that this would be the thing that would mostly yield the result that he wanted, and as such he would see this plan through to the end.

"Please then, can't you just let me go? That's what I need. People will worry..." she pleaded, voice soft, eyes focused on anywhere but his face. She knew it was a lost cause, but she still had to try.

His reponse was quick and firm as his voice hardened momentarily, leaving no room for disagreement. "You're not going anywhere, Leese. You're mine, no matter what anyone says."

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed it! Please please PLEASE let me know what you think, and REVIEW! See? I did good and updated relatively quickly. Yay. I really wanted to get it in before get it in before I get back to school. And who knows, I think I'll try for another too, before Sunday. **

**So, I watched the DVD and I wrote this during/after viewing it the second time. God, I missed that movie and all the goodness that is Cillian Murphy as Jackson Rippner. Watching it again, and listening to the commentary and watching the behind the scenes stuff gave me mucho inspiration. I hope it paid off. **

**So please let me know. I do love those Review Alert emails. They make my day (or night) when I read them.**

**Hope you all have a good rest of the week!  
**

** Maeggy**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The only thing that belongs to me is the plot. And suing would be pointless 'cause I'm a poor college student so all you'd get out of the deal would be really crappy used textbooks. **

** Now that that's out of the way, I give you ...story.

* * *

**

**Chapter Eleven**

The next morning dawned bright and clear, she could distinctly hear birds chirping in the distance, enjoying the day. Lisa lay in bed, basking in the early morning peace...Then she remembered where she was. Groaning, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. As she lay there, under the covers, she reflected on what happened the night before. Jackson had seemed almost nice (save his last parting shot); and nice certainly wasn't a word she would have associated with Jackson Rippner, but no other adjective seemed to fit.

A soft knock sounded, interrupting her thoughts. Knocking? He had never knocked before. What was he playing at? Shaking her head, she muttered a soft, "Come in."

Jackson came in, back first, pushing the door open with his butt. _Nice view,_ the thought flitted across her mind before she could stop it. Once he was fully in the room, he turned around and she saw that he was carrying a wooden tray. A wooden tray with a nice selection of breakfast food on it. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, "You brought me breakfast in bed?"

He almost looked unsure of himself for a second before he responded with a shrug, "Thought you might be hungry. I can put it away if you..."

"No," she cut it, "it's fine. I guess I am a little hungry. I, uh, didn't exactly eat a lot yesterday." She looked down and made a face at the blanket. Why on earth had she accepted that from him? She was going crazy. That was the only explaination she could give herself. Looking up, she saw that he had made his way over to her. Holding the tray out in front of him, he made a move to put it on the bed. Before he could complete the act, she sad up, leaning against the headboard and let him place the tray over his lap.

"This looks...good," she told him, then muttered, "surprisingly."

If he heard that last bit, he gave no indication. He watched as she tentativley picked up the fork and poised it over the french toast. He watched as she looked back up at him, almost as if she was waiting for something. Jackson ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him to mess with her, that it wouldn't suit his purposes. Reminding himself that he needed to be gentlemanly, and curb his other, less than appealing, qualities. Nodding towards the tray he said, "Go on. It's perfectly fine." Cringing inwardly, he waited for a retort, something involving the use of poison he was sure, but he was genuinely surprised when all she did was take a bit of the, pre-cut (he may have been trying to be nice, but he wasn't stupid, he may have given the girl a fork, but he certainly wasn't going to give her a knife), bread.

He sat on the edge of the bed, as far as he could get from her without remaining standing. Jackson wanted to make sure that she still had her space, but that she wouldn't forget he was there. It wouldn't do to rush into these things, he knew that he had to work carefully, for this would be a fragile thing indeed, and he knew that any progress he gained with her could be blown away at the drop of a hat. Turning to face her fully, he watched as she finished the french toast and moved on the to the small plate of eggs.

Before he could stop himself he said, "I realize it's not three in the morning, but they're eggs nonetheless."

Lisa froze, mouth open, eggs halfway there. She shuddered at his reminder of the..._observing _he had done for weeks on end before that dreaded flight to Miami. She gingerly put the fork back on the plate and pushed the tray away from her. Lisa turned her head to speak to him, but resolutely kept her eyes down. "I'm not really very hungry anymore."

Inwardly kicking himself for his stupidity, Jackson stood up and retrieved the tray, standing in front of the bed now he spoke to her. "You can get dressed if you want. There are clothes in the dresser," he indicated the bureau in the corner, "they should fit, but let me know if they don't." And with that he left the room. _You really should learn to keep your mouth shut, Rippner_, he scolded himself, as he weighed the benefits of kicking his own ass.

Back in the room, Lisa got up from the bed and went over to the dresser. His earlier comments had made her uneasy, or at least added to the immense pile of unease that she was already feeling. Did he have to remind her about all the intimate details that he knew of her life. Not that having scrambled eggs at three in the morning was anywhere near intimate, but it was the fact of the matter really. It was extremely unsettling to know that she had been watched for a such a long amount of time and had absolutely no idea of it. Creepy was one word for it, but it did nothing to cover the scope of the matter. Opening the top drawer revealed a wide variety of panties and bras. Damn near slamming the drawer shut, she couldn't help but blush. She moved down a row to find pants. Taking a peak at the tag at the waist, she blushed even more to realize that they were exactly the right size. She really shouldn't have been surprised. Honestly, Lisa would been more shocked if he had been wrong. That man knew everything about her. Well, almost everything. He hadn't known about the scar and its origin until he had seen in on her in the airplane bathroom and figured it out.

Lisa steered her thoughts away from that particular encounter, and ripped open the remaining drawers until she found a suitable shirt. Looking around the room, she realized there was no bathroom attached and she hesitated before she started changing. She took no risks and changed as quickly as she could, setting a world record in the process she was sure. Now comfortably attired in a pair of jeans and an overly large t-shirt (probably meant for her to sleep in), Lisa opted to keep on her own bra and panties, not wanting to go through the selection that Jackson no doubted picked out himself. She looked around the room, looking for something to occupy her time, but upon finding nothing substantially in its time wasting abilities, she decided on making the bed instead. Ignoring the treacherous path her thoughts had taken.

As she fluffed the pillows she had come to the conclusion that she didn't know which of Jackson's personalities scared her more. The one determined to kill her, or the one who had suddenly sprouted an ounce of civility. With the first, she had at least known what he wanted, but with the latter, it was much less cut and dry. It unnerved her because she didn't know what was coming next.

Absently, she wondered if Jackson had multiple personalities.

* * *

**I realize that it took a wee bit longer for me to update that I had originally planned, but I like to think that I still did a reasonable job. I got a little sidetracked before I left for school. Real life interfered and I ended working a lot more that I thought I was going to. Then it figured that when I got back to school my laptop decided to commit mutiny and die on me, therefore making me reboot the whole damn thing (as in lost-EVERYTHING-and-had-to-start-from-stratch). It's always my favorite time of year when it decids to do that. --sense the sarcasm-- But aaaanyway. I'm shooting for the middle to end of next week for the next one 'cause I have a rough draft for a paper due monday. But you never know, I could surprise everyone, even myself, and have it done sooner.**

**Now you all know what to do. REVIEW. Cause you're all awesome and love me. Oh, and before I forget, I want to thank EVERYONE who has EVER reviewed, because you guys are amazing, 207 reviews, that's just...wow. No words can describe how much that means to me. Keep 'em coming. And as usual I don't care what you write in them, it can be anything you want. And if anyone wants to IM me, feel free. My screenname is BlackCandleLight. Just make sure to tell me that you saw it on here or something, otherwise I'll be wicked (can we tell I'm from the Boston area?) confused.**

**Have a good rest of the week!**

** -Maeggy-  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve  
**

"How did you know it was going to be me to go to your hotel room?" Lisa asked, disturbing the quiet that they had found themselves in.

It was currently three o'clock in the afternoon and they were in Jackson's living room, watching, of all things, Dr. Phil. The irony wasn't lost on Lisa. Though neither of them were really watching the television show, it allowed them some semblence of peace. She was sitting on the couch at the far right end, while he was sitting on the matching recliner at the opposite end of the room. He wanted to give her her space. Lull her in to a false sense of security, or, at least, that's what he told himself. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that he didn't want her to be afraid of him. Or that he wanted her to trust him a little bit more. Nope, nothing to do with that, simply furthering his plan along. _Yeah right_, his mind retorted, though he steadfastly ignored it.

"I know a lot of things, Leese," he answered, after he chose his words with care. This was fragile ground and he needed to tread lightly.

"You've been," she swallowed, but forced herself onward, "watching me again, haven't you?" She put a hand up before he could answer and quickly added, "I want the truth, Jackson. You owe me at least that much."

"I don't owe you anything," he snapped. _Nice, Rippner, real smooth_.

She turned to him then, eyes flashing, old defiance shining through. "You threatened to kill my father," she nearly spat out, "tried to kill me. And _then _kidnapped me, I'd say you owe me a _hell_ of a lot." She finished with her teeth clenched, trying to calm herself, knowing that she probably dug herself into a hole she had no way out of. Her bravado left her just as soon as it had come, but she refused to back down.

Jackson was seething. How dare she speak to him like that, he would make her learn...No, he would not blow up over this. He would not. Repeating his new mantra to himself he tried to figure a way out of this, he never should have snapped in the first place, it didn't go with his plan. His plan was to get her trust, not her anger. Where did the Jackson go that was pre-flight? He hadn't had any problems acting kinda towards her then. And if anything, the initial attraction that he felt when he first met her, well, first _spoken_ to her at least, was nothing compared to what was surging through his brain now. To him, it was as if she could do no wrong...well, other than shoving a pen through his throat.

Taking a deep breath he answered as calmly as he could, "Lisa, it doesn't matter. Let's not..."

"Tell me," she fairly squeaked out. She cleared her throat, "I need to know," and as much as it pained her to, she added a soft, "please." It came out quiet and she knew that she was giving up some part of herself. Some part of her defiance that she could never get back. She was nearly begging for an answer and it was killing her. She had never resorted to begging with him before, well, maybe once, but that was a life and death situation, and she had awarded herself some quality begging. But this...this wasn't life or death. Somehow she knew, she just _knew_ that he wouldn't kill her. However, thoughts of other things he could do to her, that certainly didn't involve death, made her shiver.

Jackson looked at her, took a good long look and actually _saw _her. She was a scared little girl (_Well, not so little_, his mind added, to which he ignored). She was leaning back into the cushions, as if she were trying to use them as a shield. He could understand her fear. She was petrified of what he might do to her, she already knew that her life was no longer within her control, and that was something that Jackson could identify with. It was something no one would generally welcome. But, on top of that, she was dealing with things from her past that he could only begin to grasp the full meanings of. Sure, he understood what rape was, and understood the mechanics of it. But he in no way could fully grasp the mental ramifications of such an act. What would they do to a person? What did they do to Lisa? Sure, he knew, to some extent, that it made her a loner, but it was more than that. And as he thought on it more, he realized that he wanted to figure it out. To figure out the great mystery that was Lisa Reisert. But no, he wouldn't, _couldn't_ think on that now.

Turning his attention back to the here and now he answered her. "Yes," he said slowly, "I've been watching you."

She shook her head. "But, how could possibly have known..."

"Multiple toilets in your hotel were broken and were in need of maintenance. They needed to all be attended at the same time. I...," he paused, then started again, "a lot of people owe me favors, and I called some of them in. So, I knew that maintenance wouldn't be able to respond to a broken air conditioner, the toilets would have been more important. And I knew that you wouldn't have bothered them about it, you would have rather taken care of it yourself...And you did"

"...and Cynthia? She had a date. She could have postponed-"

He cut her off, his new found patience wearing thin, "But she didn't. Yes, I admit, she _could_ have. She was the wild card. However, I also knew of her recent track record with punctuality and knew that she wouldn't want to risk her _budding_ relationship," he spat the last out, as if the mere thought of a successful relationship left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You didn't," she stopped herself, then swallowed, "you aren't, going to hurt her, are you?"

"No. No, I didn't. And I won't either. Unless, that is, if I have reason to," he shot a pointed look at her, which she clearly understood for she quickly looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

As much as she was afraid for herself, she couldn't bear the thought of any else getting hurt for her. Cynthia or...her dad. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of her father. He must have been so worried by now. After the events that took place in her childhood home after the flight, her father felt that it was his duty to watch out for her from now one. More so than the normal protect-father thing, even more so then after she was attacked, the first time that is, well before Jackson came into the picture. He would blame himself for this. Taking in a shaky breath, she tried to calm her turbulent feelings.

"Promise me," she forced out. "_Promise_ me you won't hurt..." she trailed off, she couldn't bring herself to finish.

Jackson shook his head, "I can't do that, Leese."

Sliding forward, she sat on the edge of the couch, eyes looking at him imploringly. "Please," she begged. She took a deep breath, then let it out, preparing herself for her next statement, and all that it would bring with it. "Promise me and...I'll do whatever you want."

* * *

**Hey guys. I got this up a little earlier than I thought, so I'm really happy about that. Again, the original idea that I had for this chapter, and the end result, weren't the same. Somewhere along the lines the characters hijacked my fingers and decided to do the writing themselves. Who can blame them? I, for one, think this chapter came out really well. But, if you disagree, or even agree, let me know and REVIEW!**

**Now that I got the usual semi-begging for reviews out of the way, I have a plea for help. Two things actually, kinda.**

**1.) If anyone has any ideas about what you want to happen, 'cause I know some of you are worried that Jackson is being too nice or whatever, then please, feel free to shout out an idea of something you would like to see. I'll more likely than not use it, if it fits in with where I want the general direction of the story to go.**

**...and 2.) 'k, here's the deal. I have no beta for this story, as I've mentioned before. So, a few grammar and spelling mistakes make their way through to the posted product (and I really do feel bad for that, 'cause I hate making stupid mistakes, but it happens to the best of us). One of my best friends is usually my beta, she is for all my other stories, but she won't be for this one (she saw Batman Begins, and Cillian Murphy's character really freaked her out so she refuses to watch Red Eye) I mean I could still beg her to beta but it wouldn't really work 'cause she hasn't seen the movie. So, if ANYone is interested please let me know. You can either do it through a review, or e-mail me. Um...oh hell, you can IM me too, but don't expect an answer right away 'cause I'll have to wait to hear from other people. (Not that anyone actually cares, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway.)**

** aaaaanyway, look for the next update _hopefully_ by...let's say the weekend? Like, Sunday, and that's if I get my anthro essay done. Aaaah, so much work, so little time.**

** Thank you and goodnight. :)  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

He was stunned. Jackson Rippner was actually speechless. Never did he think she would fold this easily. There had to be something more to it, some hidden plot or scheme she was trying to enact. But the sincerity in her face led him to believe that she was actually being serious. That she would do anything, and everything, he said, if he were to but promise her that everyone she knew and loved would be safe. But still, he had to be sure. "Anything?" he inquired, lifting his eyebrow.

Visibly she swallowed, then gave a meek nod.

He shook his head. That would not do. He needed a verbalized answer, and he was going to get it.

"Tell me," he demanded.

Lisa sagged a little in the seat. "Please don't-"

"Say it," he demanded again, reinforcing his voice with steel.

She looked at him for a moment. Then, barely audible, "Anything."

"Louder." He was pushing her, and he knew it. However, he would not back down. He would be damned if he didn't start showing the previously lacking authority.

Clearing her throat she spoke again, louder, per his request. "Anything."

Jackson nodded once then abruptly stood, startling the woman on the couch. "Get up."

Shakily she did so, her eyes firmly glued to the floor.

"Look at me." He always found that the simpler and short the order, the more easily it was followed. Leaving no room for an argument. She brought her eyes to his and he could see every fear and insecurity inside her. It almost made him want to ease up on her. Almost. But he was sick of playing nice for the sake of her emotions. Jackson Rippner did not do nice. He tried it, didn't like it, and was going to make up for it. "Go to your room and change."

Lisa looked down at her outfit, "But I'm already."

"Go to your room and change," he said each word slowly, as if she were too stupid to understand. "I don't like what you're wearing. You will wear what I bought for you. Everything." Oh, he was well aware of what her current esemble was lacking. He knew that she wouldn't wear the lingerie he bought for her. Each piece was hand selected and he fairly needed to keep his dick under control as he imagined how each piece would look on her. How the bras would push her already ample cleavage up and put it on display. How the colors would enhance her skin. The bright reds and blues, along with the blacks, drawing attention to her assets. How the panties would accentuate her round ass, the silk and lace encasing the one area of her body he fully intended to explore to great depths.

Slowly, Lisa turned on her heels and walked out of the room, walking a slow procession to the stairs and gradualy began to ascend them, entirely too aware that Jackson was following her. She should have known it, really. Now that she opened this can of worms she knew she was in way over her head, but it was the only thing she could do. It was the only way to get what she wanted, and she was willing to put her life, and body, on the line to get it. Her family would be safe, no matter the cost.

When they arrived back to her room, Jackson had her enter first and when they were both fully in the room, he shut the door behind him. Even though they were the only two in the house, the closed door reinforced the sense of being trapped. His presence filled the room and it was almost impossible for her to ignore. She stood in the middle of the room, nervously awaiting his next instruction.

_You can do this. You have to do this_, she thought, steeling herself for she knew would come next.

Jackson strode over to the bureau and opened a draw, rummaging around until he found exactly what he was looking for. He turned around, putting the item behind his back, hidden from her view. It took him three steps before he was standing right in front of her. "You will wear this," he said, "and you will not argue about it. Understand?"

They both knew the question was a formality and nothing else. Even if she said she didn't understand, it wouldn't matter.

But, she nodded anyway.

"Good," he said, the word staccato. Bringing his hands out in front, Lisa saw that it was, indeed, lingerie in his hands. She supressed a gasp at what he had picked. In one hand was a red push up bra, with an overlay of black lace, dulling the bright color, creating an all around darker look to it. It was a very pretty piece, but it was also incredibly skimmy. Even for a bra, there was not much to it. The straps were thin and looked to be made from the same black lace. Lisa briefly wondered if it would hold up, let alone hold her in. In his other hand were the matching panties. And, she was relieved to notice, they weren't a thong. While the panties themselves were black, the sides tied together with the red lace, that would make it incredibly easy to come off. Just one small tug and they would open, showing the world her most private part.

She was scared, no denying that, as she shakily took the garments from his hands. "Where's, uh...," she cleared her throat, "where's the bathroom?"

He looked at her for a moment, debating telling her. He wanted to be with her when she stripped down for her, but he could wait for that. So, he decided on a compromise. "I'll turn around," he said. Before she could respond, he continued, "that's the best you'll get. Say anything else, and I won't even do that. Now change." True to his word, he spun around, presenting her with his back.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she undid her pants and slid them off, the whole while keeping her eyes on Jackson, making sure that he didn't peak. Not that it would really matter at this point, but she needed the small semblence of privacy that she was getting. Quickly, she pulled down her own panties until they pooled at her feet. Equally fast, she pulled on the new pair, taking a few second to double knot the ties, making sure that they would stay on. Then, she straightened up, and with another deep breath, stripped herself of the shirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothes. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Jackson she put the red black bra between her legs to free up her hands so that she could unhook the one she was wearing. Carefully she took it off, using one hard to shield herself, and dropped that to the floor as well. Then, without further hesitation she put on the lacy bra, keeping her arms crossed over her chest when she was done.

"O-okay," she whispered, letting Jackson know she was dressed. Or, as dressed as she was going to get. As he was turning around she asked, "Can I have a robe? Please?" She threw in the end, trying to appeal to some deceny in him. _Ha_, she thought, _'decent' and 'Jackson' are not words that should be in the same sentence._

When he turned to see her, the air was nearly knocked from his lungs. He couldn't believe it. If he thought she was beautiful before, now she was down right breathtaking. It took every ounce of his self-control not to throw her down on the bed and screw her brains out. Instead, his eyes roved her figure from head to toe, taking in every details, his gaze briefly stopping at her scar. Instead of detracting from her beauty, it seemed to make her all the more real. He swore to himself and nearly felt bad for what he was inflicting on her. But it was a fleeting motion and he gave it no more than a seconds thought. He would not stop now, he couldn't stop now.

Sucking his tongue back into his mouth, metaphorically that is, he responded to her question in a clipped tone, "No robe."He started out of her room, opening the door, but stopping halfway through. "Follow me."

And she did. Following him as he made his way back to the living room, her arms securely around herself, her barefeet cold from the floor. Coming to a stop in the living room, Jackson pointed to the couch. Demanding without words for her to sit back down. She did so, scooting back into the cushions, trying to use something as a shield to cover herself. She reached for a pillow but was stopped when Jackson slapped her hand hard enough to sting.

"No."

Jackson sat back down, but this time he sat right up against her. His left side touching hers as he draped his arm around the back of the couch, barely an inch away, so that it was almost as if she were being cradled by him. Lisa shivered a little, whether it was from the cold or from Jackson she didn't know, and she didn't want to figure out.

He reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the TV just in time to listen to Dr. Phil tell a young woman stop dwelling on the past and to get on with her life. Again, the irony was not lost on either of the rooms occupants.

Lisa turned her head and looked up at Jackson, "Please, can I have a blanket or something. I'm...cold," she inwardly cringed. While not exactly a lie, she didn't want _every _weakness she currently possessed to be showcased to this man.

He looked down at her, seemingly contemplating her request, "I can think of another way to warm you up." That sentence, coming from anyone else, would have been considered harmless flirting, but anything coming from this man would be far from harmless.

"I'd real much prefer the blanket."  
Jackson shrugged, a lazy movement of muscle, "Well, then, you'll just have to deal with it. Now, sit tight and watch the good doctor. I know how much of a fan you are."

Lisa turned her head away, not wanting Jackson to see the lone tear as it made its way down her cheek.

* * *

**Sorry! I know, I was A LOT more delayed than I said I would be, and I sincerely apologize. Don't hate me -ducks flying food- I'll be better next time, I swear.  
**

**I really REALLY want to thank my extraordinarly wonderful beta. You know who are you. Seriously wouldn't have done this without you. Big ole THANK YOU to you!**

**And with that said, you all know what to do...Review please! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen  
**

A week had gone by since Lisa had submitted herself to the lunatic known as Jackson Rippner. He had made her do degrading things, embarrassing things, sitting in her underwear aside. Her days had developed into a kind of macabre normality. In the morning she would be awakened by one Mr. Rippner, usually from him stripping her of the covers and speaking in overly loud, bright, and peppy tones, giving Lisa cause to very much just want to slap him, though she didn't dare. That didn't, however, stop the thought from crossing her mind every morning without fail. _Think of your father_, was the mantra she had started using. Every time she felt the need to inflict bodily harm she would repeat that phrase to herself, over and over until she was almost saying it out lout.

After her rude awakening she would then be given roughly fifteen minutes to shower and do "whatever it is that you people (she assumed he meant women) do in the bathroom," as Jackson so wonderfully put it. Before she was sent off the bathroom, though, she would be given detailed instructions on what shampoos to use and how to style her hair_. If he wasn't so damned secure in his masculinity, he could almost pass for gay._ These little bits helped keep Lisa sane throughout, any little way for her to relieve the stress of the situation. _The situation you placed yourself in, don't forget_. And she had started to develop the nasty habit of arguing with herself in her mind, but it was better than the innuendo filled conversations that occurred with, _Jack_.

She was honestly surprised that he let he bathe and 'primp' with the bathroom door closed. That was the only time he let her out of his sight. He had even taken to commanding that she keep the bathroom door open when she needed to...relieve herself. That was the utterly, most degrading part of her day, and she consistently tried to hold it until she went to bed; he never bothered her then and didn't seem to mind her use of the bathroom at odds times in the dark. He figured if she was doing that then she certainly wasn't sleeping. And a significantly low amount of sleep made it easier for him to control her. So, who was he to argue?

Upon exiting the bathroom, she would find a outfit laid out for her on the bed, bra and panties included. After taking a few minutes to look over the selection, Jackson would slip back into the room to stand in the corner to see, if any, the reaction he would get. He found it particularly interesting the day he had put out a leather corset, seeing her face heat up as she realized that there was no way that she would be able to lace it up on her own. That seemed to be the biggest of her problems, disregarding the fact that this piece of...clothing, would enhance certain aspects of her body. She quickly learned not to show embarrassment about her current wardrobe, for it only seemed to egg him on. And that was something that she did not want to do. He seemed to get enough of a sadistic kick out of tightening the leather death trap, as she called it, with over enthused glee, taking supreme pleasure (that was not a gun in his pocket she was sure) with every pull that made her flinch. Which he made sure was every one.

Once she was dressed, regardless of whether she needed his help on a give day or not, he would slowly walk around her, as a predator examines its prey. He would run his hands down her back, her arm, or across her stomach and watch her shiver as she attempted not to shy away from him.

After the Dressing of Lisa, which she abhorred every minute of, she told herself, especially when he caressed her body (that was her story and she was damn sure sticking to it), they would head downstairs to the kitchen. He would take great care in cooking for them making sure each meal was delectable and tantalizing so that in no way could she reject it on the grounds of it looking, and tasting, less than appealing. Jackson had at first contemplated the idea of having her cook for them both, but then decided against it, not wanting to give her free access to anything sharp, or blunt for that matter. They would sit together and he would make sure that, if she didn't completely finish the meal, then at least she ate a substantial enough amount of it. In the beginnings she would try to eat very little, but after he practically force-fed her she learned that it would be far better if she just fed herself. All meals, for the most part, proceeded this way varying only slightly depending if any problems had arisen during the day.

Between meals was an interesting time, at least for the man of the house. He never had anything set and planned, but flew by the seat of his pants. If something were to pop into his head, he would have her do it. Such as the example of when he decided the bathroom in the master bedroom needed to be cleaned and it could only be done properly if it was cleaned while wearing a push-up bra and thong (he, thankfully, let her cover up after). She had resisted at first, or made a feeble attempt at such, but Jackson was quick to squash any revolt. He was firm and strong, never wavering in anything he said, he absolutely refused to show mercy in anything he did and he was certainly taking that to the max.

Only at night, when she cried herself into a fitful sleep, did he feel a twinge in his thought to be long dead heart, but that too he squashed. There was no place for petty emotions here, they would only fuck things up, and that was not going to happen. Not on his watch. Jackson was quite happy at the progress she was making. Only a week and she seemed to pick up on behavioural problems and discrepancies and she fixed them almost immediately to suit his liking, but he was well aware of the feelings of animosity on her part. That was why he made sure to keep up a steady flow of upbeat conversation during the day, the majority of which was one-sided. Of course, said conversation did have intervals of full on taunting, teasing, and sexual discourse, but there was only so much he could let slide. He relished in the way she heated up and squirmed, but he wasn't so sure if the squirming was due to embarrassment, or if it stemmed from a darker reason.

Arousal.

He knew damn well that every time she squeezed her thighs together that it was not embarrassment dictating her actions. It was on the eighth day that he approached her with a handheld phone and a knowing look.

They were in the living room, she seated on the couch slightly more demure outfit; consisting of low slung, tight jeans and a low cut tank top. Demure by Jackson's standards, clearly.

"I need you to make a call," he said, phone outstretched.

Slowly, she took it from him, but could not keep the biting retort from flying out of her mouth, "What? Need another room change,_ Jack_?"

He didn't respond to the barb, but continued to explain. "You are going to call you father and explain to him you have decided to take an extended vacation and you are not sure of when you will be back."

Lisa looked at the phone for a minute, a dejected sigh escaping her, she knew she had to do this and that she had no choice in the matter. If anything, she assured herself, she just going to reassure her dad that she was okay. He had to be going out of his mind by now, not having heard from her in over a week.

"Also tell him to call your hotel and inform them of your plans. Be convincing and don't fuck it up. You know the consequences." He waited a moment for her to digest the rest of it and when she still hadn't dialed her number, he spoke again. "What, are we waiting for a formal invitation? Get on with it."

Taking a deep breath she shakily dialed her home number, knowing her dad would pick it up right away.

"Hello?" he sounded out of breath. He must have run to get it. "Lisa? Honey is that you?"

She cleared her throat, "Hi, dad. I, uh, I'm sorry I haven't called you. I," she cleared her throat again, but abruptly stopped at the look Jackson shot at her, "just needed time to try and unwind and relax."

Joe breathed a sigh of relief, "I've been so worried. I nearly called the police on you."

"You didn't, did you?" She tried to stop the note of hopefulness from showing in her voice, but she wasn't entirely sure it worked. On the one hand she hoped that he did so that they would be alerted that something was amiss. On the other hand, however, she didn't even want to think of what Jackson would do if he found out her dad called the police. It would undoubtedly end badly for all involved, save himself.

"No, honey, I didn't. I would have if I didn't hear from you by tomorrow," Joe paused for a moment, "I know you don't like when I ask, but are you okay?"

Lisa clutched the phone tighter, "I'm fine, dad. But, um, I just called to let you know that I'm...taking an extended vacation," she shot a look at Jackson and continued on at his nod of approval, "I might head up north. I, uh...haven't been to Boston in a while. I just need to get away."

Joe chuckled, "You always did love it up there, especially in the fall. I remember when your mother and I took you up there winter when you were a little girl. Craziest weather I ever did see. What was it? Snowing one day and then the next it was almost sixty degrees. Still beautiful, though. How are you going to get up there? Train or car?" There was no need to ask about flights because they were both very aware that Lisa wouldn't take another flight if another mode of transportation were available.

A tear dripped down her cheek as her dad brought up childhood memories from when the Reisert's were still a happy family. She sniffed quietly before answering, "I'm going to drive." It was best that she stick to short, concise answers now. She was so close to losing her composure that she could taste it.

"Okay, baby, just call me when you get up there. I don't want to have to worry about you again, disappearing for days," he admonished her.

"Well, I can't daddy. My, um, cell phone broke. I accidentally dropped it and didn't realize. Cynthia stepped on it. I'm going to... er, get one when I get up there. Cingular's everywhere." So much for short answers, she had to swallow hard a few times to make sure her voice wouldn't break.

Joe sighed, clearly not happy with the answer. "Fine, Lisa. Just, promise that you'll call as soon as you can, alright?"

She nodded, but then she realized that he couldn't see her, "I promise. I need you to do me a favor though.

"Sure, sweetheart, what is it?"

Looking up at Jackson, she responded, "Call the hotel and just let them know? I'd just rather not have to deal with Cynthia right now."

"Okay, I'll do that right now. When do you want me to tell them that you'll be back?"

"I don't know, I haven't decided. Just tell them...tell them that I'll call on when I know."

He sighed again, "Lisa, I have to be honest here. I'm not too happy with you going away like this. Now, before you interrupt, I understand you need to get away. But we could go together, just you and your old man again. How's that sound?" He sounded so hopeful at the end that it broke her heart to continue this charade.

"I'm sorry, daddy. Just...let me do this. On my own," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I'll be fine, I promise." She didn't know if that last bit was for herself or her father. "I have to go now dad, I don't want to get stuck in traffic. You know 95 can be."

"All right. I love you, baby"

"I love you, too." And she hung up.

Jackson took the phone from her limp fingers, her gaze fixed firmly in front of her.

"Very nice, Leese."

That call was the last nail in the coffin, so to speak. And she couldn't help it, but she curled up on the couch and cried. Cried for her father, cried for her friends. But mostly, she cried for herself.

* * *

**Hey everyone. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I apologize about the delay. You can blame the huge amounts of homework that I have. But, the chappie is a little longer than normal, so hopefully that'll help make up for it. So, I did my part, you do yours. Review please. Getting those Review Alerts really do make my day. **

**And I just want to thank my beta again before I go. You're awesome. :o)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Saturday morning found Lisa in the kitchen in some kind of Martha Stewart mockery. She was standing at the island in the middle of the kitchen, flour on her cheek, and stirring a bowl of brownie batter. As she slowly mixed the batter, she reflected on that mornings events.

It had progressed normally, for them at least, until Jackson has received a call on his cell phone. The first one that Lisa had been aware of, or, at least, it was the first that was conducted in her presence. It wasn't a very long conversation, but it was long enough to set the tone for the day. After hanging up with one of his...acquaintances he had gone upstairs and had come back down dressed in a suit. She couldn't stop herself from asking what was going on, he had snapped saying that it was none of her business but that he was leaving the house for a few hours. He delighted in telling her that there was no way for her to escape and then proceeded to give her a laundry list of things to do, including baking the accursed brownies that she was in the middle of.

Having already debated the pros and cons of lacing them with some sort of cleaner, preferably something with bleach in it. The only reason she wasn't currently baking poisoned pastries was because of the fact that, if he survived such an attack, she probably wouldn't have made it through his retribution. She highly doubted that she could escape with her life if she made a second failed attempt on his life.

So, after he left, in what she definitely classified as a _huff_, she started work on the brownies (unfortunately free of any additives). She figured that while they were baking she could get some of the other, light, cleaning done. Mostly dusting, since it would take less time, while she waited for the brownies to cool before applying the frosting.

Yes, he specifically requested strawberry frosting on his beloved brownies. And damned if she wasn't going to spit in it first. Far less undetectable than bleach of any kind.

After she made sure there were no undue bumps or dry batter on the sides of the bowls, she poured it into the large rectangle pan that she has already prepared and place it into the heated over, carefully trying to avoid snaring herself on the heated metal. Unfortunately, her efforts were in vain because as she placed the pan securely on the shelf, her oven mitt slipped and the inside of her wrist landed squarely on the metal rack. She let out a small scream as she launched herself backwards, somehow managing to close the oven door in the process.

Lisa raced to the sink, cradling her burning skin to her chest. Yanking the handle on the sink, cold water exploded out of the faucet, she wasted no time and thrust her wrist under the water, hissing as it made contact.

While the water was cooling the burn, Lisa rested her head in her other hand trying desperately not to give way to tears; her defenses decidedly low since that phone call to her father.

"This figures," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ten minutes and much redder skin later, Lisa was on her way upstairs to change her outfit considering that she had splashed a substantial amount of water on herself in her bid to soak her wrist. Granted, Jackson probably wouldn't have cared about the clinging quality of her outfit, but she was loath to walk around the house dripping wet, whether or not it was in her 'approved outfit of the day'.

Lisa attempted not to stomp on her way to the room, but it didn't stop her from nearly ripping the door off its hinges in her anger and frustration, not to mention more than a little pain. She went through the barely-there..._things_ (they were _not_ clothing of any kind) that he had bought for her.

Towards the bottom of the drawer she spotted what looked like a tee shirt, clingy yes, but far more descent than ninety-nine percent of what else was in there. She also took out another pair of jeans, the water on her shirt having dripped and now covered her waist and it also looked like a good portion of her thighs had been splashed, too.

It didn't take long for her to change, though it did take her a while as she debated with herself whether or not she should put back on the hooker shoes that she had been wearing before. In the end, she did put them back on because she knew that she'd probably be cleaning when he came back and if he didn't spot the shoes on her feet he'd probably spank her, or something equally degrading, as punishment.

The thought crossed her mind, as she made her way from her room, that it would be easier if she had a watch on. That way, she would know how long the brownies had stayed in the oven because she wasn't sure how long they would take to back, seeing as how every oven was different if one wasn't accustomed to it. And accustomed was something she was not. She received her answer, however, when she was at the top of the stairs. The distinct spell of something burning was wafting from the kitchen, along with a little bit of smoke. Clearly the oven packed a little more of a punch than she originally thought.

_Crap_, Lisa thought as she hurried down the stairs.

She heard a snap as she stepped on a stairs what was a good three-fourths from the bottom. It didn't take long for her to wonder what it was, because as soon as she heard the sound her left leg suddenly lurched forward and she slammed into the wall. Try as she might to stop her downward progress, she couldn't and she fell head over heel.

Her knees, hip, shoulder, and head hit the remaining steps over and over until, finally, she came to rest in a heap on the floor. Her left leg was bent at an awkward angle and she knew something, if not a few things, had to be broken. She was in far too much pain for there not to be substantial damage. Head throbbing, her gaze came to rest on the red heel of her shoe that had come gently rolling down the stairs. The plastic had snapped cleanly off.

For the first time, as she lay there, she prayed to see Jackson soon as blood slowly oozed down her face and started to pool in her eye socket. Lisa not having nearly enough energy to lift a hand and try to scoop it away.

It didn't matter, though, her eyes slowly closing as she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Yes, I know it has been an incredibly long time. Something around five months as one reader pointed out. So to all of you I have a very big...I'M SORRY! It's been a crazy mix of stress, family issues, busy schedules, and of course, good ole writers block. A lot of writer's block actually. However, I seem to have gotten over that as the idea for this chapter practically bit me in the butt. I really am very sorry, please don't hate me. You'll all be happy to know that I have a very clear idea for the next chapter and their relationship dynamic will be starting to change.**

**Please, please REVIEW...even though I probably don't deserve it. But it would still be nice. And I will hopefully have an update for you soon. Maybe by the end of the week, if not sooner.**

** I also want to extend a very big THANK YOU to _everyone _that has stuck with this story! It really, truly means a lot to me, so thank you.  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

He was not having a good day. After the phone call that he received earlier that day, he rushed out of the house (after making sure everything was securely locked, that is), to meet with one of his…underlings. He did not like to think of them as equal, for the surely were not at the level he was and they suitably did as they were told. As he was on his way to the meeting place, a good hour away from his current location, the oil light in the car went on, so he was forced to find a gas station and get a quart or three. When he finally made it to the meeting, the other man had yet to arrive, and that did not make Jackson Rippner a happy man.

The other man finally arrived about fifteen minutes later, only to inform Rippner of several mishaps in the case that he was handling. The next forty-five minutes were filled with threats and coercions to get the job done as smoothly as possible.

"But," the man swallowed nervously, "don't, uh…you think you should maybe…fix it?" he practically squeaked, fear obvious in both his eyes and voice. He knew that Mr. Rippner was a scary man, and when he was angry it was far far worse.

Jackson glared.

"Or…or not," he swallowed again, his throat dried out with fear.

"You will fix this," Jackson hissed, "or you will _severely_ regret it. Do I make myself clear?" He did not have time to deal with these mistakes, or any for that matter. He had other things he needed to take care of, and they went by the name of Lisa Reisert. He did not want any time taken away from his well-moving conquest because he could not afford for anything to go wrong. And surely leaving her alone for this long was definitely moving in that direction. Who knew what insane plans she was cooking up? He did not even want to think of the possibilities, because she could be quite ingenious when she wanted to be. He still had the scar on his throat to prove it.

"Yes s-sir," he nodded jerkily as he got up to leave.

"Good," Jackson bit out in return, pushing from his seat and gliding to the door.

He was gone before the other man even left the building.

On the way home he grew increasingly more excited as the miles passed. His sick fascination with Lisa was reaching new heights and he very nearly couldn't wait until he got back. Their way of playing house was oddly arousing to him, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was to her as well. Even if she wouldn't admit it. But, he knew her mind, knew her inner thoughts. During the drive back he repeatedly had to stop himself from driving too far above the speed limit. Getting pulled over would not help his day any. Seeing Lisa in one of her outfits, however, would.

After what seemed like eternity to him, he finally pulled into the driveway. Taking a deep breath to calm his anxious body, he stepped out of the car, and stopped. His face was drawn into a mask of confusion as he scented the air.

Burning.

_She's not that stupid, is she?_ he thought as he considered the fact that she might try to burn the house down as a way of escape, never mind the fact that she would be locked inside as it smoldered.

Racing to the door, he fished for the correct key as fast as he could and opened the door, banging it against the wall with a force.

Again he froze. He couldn't believe the sight before him.

_Is she dead?_

No, no she couldn't be dead. He refused to believe that. But there she was, sprawled on the floor, her leg bent at a grotesque angle, and he knew just by looking at it that it was broken. Her head was turned to the side, blood sliding down her face. So, she wasn't dead, then, for if she was, her blood would have stopped flowing. He'd killed enough people in the early days of his career to know what they human body did after it died. The heart stopped beating; therefore it stopped sending blood to various parts of the body and it would then be unable to bleed.

Letting out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, he finally saw the smoke coming from the kitchen. And, as much as he wanted to check her first, it would not do to have the house burn down around them. He rushed into the kitchen and saw that it was all coming from the oven. He had caught it in time, before the smoke alarm could sound. The fire department would not be a welcomed addition to his day. Quickly, he turned off the oven, opened the windows and took the tray from the oven, being careful not to burn himself, not even looking at what was in it, what had burned to nearly a crisp. Only when he was certain that that crisis was averted did he go back to her.

He knew that he couldn't call an ambulance, but he also knew that she needed medical attention. He'd have to do the best he could, given the circumstances, even if that meant that she would not get the professional help that she obviously was in need of. Taking stock of her numerous injuries, of which probably included a nasty concussion never mind a broken leg, he gently got his arms under her, deciding to move her to a bed, because laying like she was on the floor was not going to help. He glanced at her leg for a moment before he picked her up, and he came to the conclusion that he was glad she was unconscious for the moment.

As he picked her up and shifted her in his arms, he noticed the broken heel lying innocently on the floor. He glared at it, hatred spewing from his eyes at the sight of the inanimate object. Then, he practically ran up the stairs, the dead weight in his arms not stopping him, and he walked to his room and placed her gently on the bed.

He took a step back and gazed down on her battered and broken body. And, for the first time since Lisa's tenure at the house, he felt…guilty.


	17. Chapter 17

_Wake up_.

That was thought going through his head as he watched the unconscious woman, his eyes not leaving her pale face. He had cleaned off the blood and sutured the gash on her forehead. Being in his line of work, he had more than a basic working knowledge of some first aid. But her leg? That was beyond his skill set. As it was, he had set it as best he could, straightening out the limb so that the sight of it bent so grotesquely no longer made him want to vomit.

Ironic. Jackson Rippner did not do caring.

Usually. _Motherfucker._

He had killed countless people, some innocent and some less than, yet the thought of this woman lying there, helpless and hurt, made him sick. Clearly he was losing his touch, and he couldn't figure out why that didn't bother him as much as it should have. She was getting under his skin in a way he could not have predicted and now all he wanted was her to wake up. Wake up and yell at him. Scream at him. Call him every name in the book and fight him for her freedom. He didn't care what she did, as long as she opened her eyes.

But he'd never tell her that.

His elbows were braced on his thighs, hands fisted under his chin as he continued to stare. Now watching the rise and fall of her chest. He didn't know how much time had passed that he stayed there, not moving, just staring and trying to think of different ways to wake her up. If she wouldn't wake up on her own, he'd have no choice but to wake her up himself.

As he was thinking of some more…elaborate ways to get the job done, he heard a hitch of breath and a low moan and his eyes flew back to her face.

Her eyes were rolling beneath her lids are she struggled to open them. Another low moan escaped her as the pain came rolling back.

"Lisa," he called her name softly, trying to coax her to consciousness faster. Because clearly he would be the one she'd want to wake for. Yeah, right. He needed to get these bullshit things called feelings under control, and fast. "Hey," he called louder, sterner. "Wake up."

Her only response was a stronger cry.

Jackson exploded out his chair and loomed over her, leaning down, his fists braced on the mattress. "Wake. Up." His voice was succinct as he tried to reign in his fear fueled rage. He wanted to shake her, force her eyes open. But he wouldn't .

_Those goddamn shoes. _

He bounced his knuckles on the mattress, creating a small wave of motion as if that would open her eyes faster. Minutes passed as he stood there, shoulders slightly hunched as his eyes moved over her face, watching as she tried to claw her way to consciousness.

Finally, her eyes opened slightly, letting the barest hint of light in before they slammed shut and her face turned away.

"Off," she whispered, and then cleared her throat. "Please," she begged, "turn it off."

For someone with his level of intelligence, it took a few seconds for him to realize she was talking about the lamp by her beside. He quickly switched it off, the only light remaining was coming from the window in the corner. The shade was only raised up an inch, letting in the soft glow from the setting sun.

Evening already?

"Okay," he said, trying to keep the concern from his voice. _Where's your legendary control now, Rippner? _

Lisa turned her face back towards him, one eye opening slowly, more slowly than he would have preferred. Once she realized that the light wasn't causing stabbing bolts of pain, she opened the other one, locking her pain filled gaze on his intense one.

"What…", she started, licking her drip lips.

He straightened up and cut in before she could finish her question. "There was an accident," his words were clipped, sharp, barely controlled.

_Get it together._

Her eyes rolled to the side as she looked at him, trying not to move her aching body. "An accident?"

"Yes. That's what I said. You fell down the stairs and nearly burned the damn house down." He let his worry turn into anger. Anger he could deal with. Anger that she was hurt. Anger that she could have been killed from something so…so…_fucking stupid._

She glared at him, or tried to, but it was less effective since she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm so sorry I almost burned your precious house down," she hissed, voice so low he had to stop himself from leaning in to hear her. "Next time I nearly kill myself I'll make sure I have nothing cooking."

His reply was quick and steely, "You will do nothing like this ever again."

Over his dead body would something even remotely similar ever happen. If he had to throw away all the shoes in the house, he would. Fuck that, he'd forbid her to ever step foot on the upper floor again. She'd sleep in the living room. Yes, that would work.

She took a deep breath, no doubt to say something scathing, but her breath was caught as a new wave of pain started in her leg and moved up her body. She tensed and gritted her teeth, which didn't help her throbbing head. No way would she let him see the amount of pain she was in.

Jackson held his own breath as he watched her try to hold her pain in. He knew the pain would be intense, she'd not had anything to dull it, and the break in her leg would make a lesser person want to vomit. He cleared his throat and made himself be as clinical as possible, "You have multiple contusions and a concussion which I stitched close," as if it were a favor he bestowed upon her, "additionally you have at least one break in your leg which will need to be seen by a professional."

"I thought you were the professional here."

"Yes, well, while that may be so, this is a little beyond my expertise," he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets, it not sitting well with him that he wasn't good at something.

"You're taking me to a hospital?" she sounded shocked. Well, of course she would, that would mean he would need to take her out in public. With people. People that could help her. _Oh, thank god._

Turning to walk away from the bed, he chuckled and she didn't like it.

Lisa watched him walk to the door, not looking at her. Once he got to the door, he turned slightly and looked at her.

"Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart."


End file.
